


The Moon's Knight

by oceandawn



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, maybe enemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:55:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceandawn/pseuds/oceandawn
Summary: Ben is the Prince and rightful heir to the Kingdom in which his father is King. He's witty, charming, and has the weight of his family's reputation to uphold.As the days approach his 24th birthday, he must decide on who will stay by his side throughout his reign — a loyal knight.Wanting to make the task exciting, Ben sets up a challenge, inviting all who wish for the title and the benefits that come along with it to step up and fight.That's the day his eyes fall on him, the man with no name but all of Ben's heart.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 51
Kudos: 125





	1. we must begin somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!
> 
> if 3am rush was the au ive wanted to write for ballum, then this is the au i've wanted to write before i even started that
> 
> so, mutual pining, secret relationship, medieval era? here we goooo
> 
> also, i've written ben and callum to speak as they would back then, so some of their lines might be considered more 'posh'? than they usually would. but it wont be like that all the time
> 
> ben is partially deaf in this, just as an fyi!
> 
> will try and update every sunday and wednesday. depends how quick i write and if i get ahead.
> 
> enjoy!

_\- - -_

_chapter 1. we must begin somewhere_

  
  


For most of Ben's life, these glamoured, high ceiling halls have been rather frightening.

They're not meant for him even though he was born here. Tall enough for the Gods themselves, mighty for the best of warriors and yet he's a mere man, told many things he doesn't believe.

Every time he looks up to see marble lions carved from hours of work, held onto the walls by claws and fangs, he wonders exactly how many people have claimed this pride of a kingdom for themselves.

Soon, Ben will have to do just that.

Only time will tell when he'll take the throne from his father. He's not a boy anymore, following him around with a knitted toy held tightly in his fist, clueless as to the shouting and the long, empty grand tables.

He's a Prince, the trusted treasure of the land, the _poster boy_ as you will to the next generation of leaders. Growing up under the thumb of his father has not been kind but his mother, his glorious mother _Kathy_ has given him the kindness he would've dearly lost otherwise.

So he smiles, waves at villagers, offers his ear for their worries and problems even though he's been told to not waste seconds on them. He's a Prince of the people despite what his reputation might originally paint him with — cunning heartbreaker. Handsome devil.

Despite his kindness, people still fear him. He has his father to thank for that.

Alas, rumours are rumours, and those intelligent enough keep their lips together in favour of feeling his father's wrath.

Then there's the riches, the popularity, the people who wish nothing more than to marry him and be _the one —_ Ben finds it rather endearing, being so admired, but his heart splits in painful ways when he realises most, if not all, would marry him for the benefits it would bring.

Some purely want one night. _That,_ he can afford, _sometimes._

He'd rather not, and in fact, he hasn't in years. Giving yourself something when Ben knows — even as a Prince — that he can't have it, it brings him turmoil, a frown and a heavy heart when he sees couples in the village, feels the vibration of wedding bells from floors below in the central hall.

Ben was raised for a job, a legacy, not love.

As he grows older, he fears his father will one day ask the big question, organising meetings with distant lands and their Princesses in order to marry for _the good of the land._

It's not all bad, really.

Not when those prospects are years in the future and right now, he can sleep in red, silk sheets with the balcony doors shut to mute the sounds of the villages surrounding. All thanks to a deal with his friend, _Henry,_ his loyal servant, but Ben despises the word.

However, Henry is more loyal to someone else merely out of fear, despite having been by Ben's side as he's grown up.

A sharp, morning strip of light cuts through Ben's quarters, warm but unexpected as Ben flinches back from the sudden intrusion.

"Morning, Prince," Henry says, hands together as he stands by the curtains he so rudely barged open. He's very soft spoken, an undertone of bold to match the grey hairs atop his head. 

Ben wrinkles his nose, staring out to the open window, squinting as he reaches up his hand to try and block it.

"Thought we had a deal?" Ben asks, grunting when his head falls back to the pillow, eyes shut. They still burn from the light.

"I know, but your father has requested to speak to you."

_Great._

Ben doesn't move, hoping his body will fall back into the grasp of sleep but nothing, nothing but the faded footsteps of Henry, leaving since the message has now been delivered.

"I'll let him know you will be a little late," Henry so kindly offers, shutting the door behind him.

 _Fuck._ His headache is starting to kick in, turning over so that the light from the window doesn't irritate him so much.

The deal was to allow him extra hours in the morning, to say he was sick, but his father's word is beyond law, it's practically history.

So, he has to get up, has to pull energy from somewhere even though he can feel his body pulling him back to the bed. Getting drunk so late is something he tries to avoid, but last night, it was one of those nights.

Too much on his mind.

Ben leaves his quarters minutes later, adjusting the silver leaves of his laurel crown on the back of his head since he denied the entrance of servants to help him dress. Honestly, when he's like this, barely awake and about to face his father for whatever reason, he needs all the silence and peace he can afford.

The halls are as hollow and cold as they are every day. There's spots of warmth, people he knows, staff he has a fondness towards for their kindness, the blinds and fabrics his mother chose draping from the ceiling. 

Adjusting the string tie around his shoulders, he tucks it under the front of his shirt, allowing his burgundy cape with the emblem of the kingdom embroidered to flow freely behind him, appearing as if it's flowing from his collar bones. He wouldn't bother with the fancy dress if it were any other day, but the fact he's being summoned is as good a guess as any that it's something important.

Ben nods to staff on his way, smiling what small smile he can muster when his spine feels so heavy. The closer he walks to that hall, hands behind his back, clasped together, the more he worries his time to become the next ruler is beckoning ever closer.

As he turns a corner, five minutes after leaving his quarters, the doors of giants stand before him, guards holding their spears across the surface like a mythical lock. A red ribbon hangs from the end, embroidered with the same emblem on Ben's cape, a lion roaring to the sky and fire at its tail. 

When Ben walks closer, the guards move their arms in sync, pulling the spears back from the door to be held at their sides.

Ben, when he was younger, asked if their arms ever tire. He never got a response, only the mechanical silence.

He nods as he passes them, pushing open the doors, the open space of the royal hall revealed to him in the morning light.

The heavy doors clang as they shut behind Ben, and the entire room falls on him, the _charming Prince, the successor, the spawn of the great._

All the titles make Ben's skin crawl.

"My son," Phil beckons, standing up from his chair, sat furthest away on the long, grand table that never seems to reach full capacity no matter the occasion.

Despite the overly spacious room, Ben's thankful for the echo. It's much louder in here, easier to pick up words. His hearing isn't the best at most times, and he's been trying to hide that from his father his whole life.

So far, it's worked. Ben is a master of tricks, of persuasion.

The _oh, sorry. I wasn't listening._

Or the, _what? Could you please elaborate?_ because nine times out of ten it's people he doesn't care to listen to regardless but they're happy for the opportunity to talk about themselves.

Also, a lot of people don't care to notice. They expect Ben to be perfect regardless.

"Father," Ben starts walking again, stopping at the end of the table, eyes falling on instinct to the line of men that stand shoulder to shoulder, one hand on their sword. There doesn't seem to be any life in this kingdom, they're all following orders.

"You're late," Phil sits back down, servants at his beck and call rushing to fill his breakfast plate with whatever he desires and points to.

There's no plate for Ben. Charming.

"And here I was, thinking my _oh glorious_ father had summoned me for breakfast on the balcony." Ben pats himself on the back for that one, managing to avoid the question of his punctuality. "Yet, you've summoned…" Ben counts them with a small muttering of his lips before clicking his tongue in surprise. _"Eight!_ Eight _handsome_ men to accompany me instead. How mighty generous of you."

Phil glares his way. Ben feels like a kid again, scolded for setting fire to the kitchen.

He knows of Ben's — _preferences,_ as he calls them, and despite that, he allows Ben to do what he wants provided the secret doesn't fall on ears beyond the kingdom. Anyone who knows about it within these walls or in the village for that matter are strongly advised to _keep_ it that way.

It would ruin a potential marriage for Ben, not that Ben would mind if that happened. Frankly, it'd save him.

"They are here for the purpose that you are," which doesn't sound promising to Ben, at all.

"I don't quite know what you mean, father."

"You are approaching your 24th birthday, correct?" Phil flicks his finger, a servant pouring a glass of water for him into a goblet made for wine.

"Yes, I am. Thought you'd forgotten," laughs Ben, but he sounds nervous.

Some of the men — _knights_ — glance at Ben for a mere second before looking where they're facing again.

"Well, it is more apparent than ever that your duties towards this kingdom must accelerate," Phil sounds cheery about it. Ben feels like sinking into the floor at the thought of it.

He wishes he could say he would like to make him proud, but that wish long since left his heart for reasons that are too painful to remember. In fact, his father thinks he has forgotten, and it doesn't exactly work in Ben's favor.

"So, am I to be here more often? In meetings?" Ben asks through grit teeth.

_Please say no. Please say no—_

"No."

_Yes._

"But—" _Shit._ "You are to take the first step, improve your image, look _stronger."_

Ben doesn't follow, "I thought my _image_ was just fine? The villagers love me. I listen to them, I guide them. Is that not what you asked of me?" Well, what his _mother_ asked of him.

"Yes," Phil shakes his head, thinking. "Too soft. Like your mother."

Ben takes a deep breath. He pushes his tongue along his bottom teeth as his lips part, and _oh,_ the venom he could spit if he had any power to do so.

"Well, what would you have me do?" Ben already knows that the knights standing adjacent to the table are here for Ben, but he's not exactly clear on why.

"A Knight," Phil munches on his food as he speaks, eyes downcast to his plate, speaking to Ben as an afterthought. "A loyal, trusty warrior by your side. I have one in Danny, and you will find your own."

Ah, yeah. _Danny._

He comes from the same boil of sickness his father came from. Ben has never liked him. Still doesn't.

"Ah, a shining example," Ben's voice drips with sarcasm, his stomach turning at the thought of finding someone similar as his shadow. 

"Exactly!" Phil announces it to the room, cutlery hitting the plate with a shrill sound as he wipes his mouth. Ben flinches from it in discomfort. "So?"

Ben looks around after resisting the need to rub his right ear.

"So?"

"Pick one," Phil gestures to the line of men, all adorned in full armour. Chainmail, capes, swords. The lot.

"I—" Ben goes to speak, but he decides against it. The hesitation grants everyone's attention, because a Prince should be _firm_ in his decision. "I do not know these men."

"And you will get to know them, won't you?" Phil laughs, as if it's obvious.

Ben walks to the side where he can walk between the furniture and where the Knights stand. He eyes them, one by one, and none of them dare to look back.

"I do not know them, therefore I cannot trust them," Ben stops at the end, turning back to his father. He's barely given any of them a glance.

"They are loyal—"

"—to _you,_ father. They serve you, not me." 

Phil seems to contemplate that, looking to a few of the Knights before standing up from his chair. The servants move quickly to clear the table as Henry enters the hall, standing by the exit as he waits for Ben.

"These are the best Knights we have, the finest. They were born as them and will end that way, so how do you suppose you _know them?"_

Ben can't help but laugh, looking his father in the eye as he speaks.

"I will spend the year finding one—"

 _"No,"_ bellows Phil. "I've granted you a year already, and you decided to waste that doing heaven knows what! You choose today, or not at all."

Ben thought he could get away with it again, convince him like he did before, but Phil is seemingly running out of patience. He knew it was only a matter of time, Ben just didn't think he had so little of it.

Henry glances to Ben from where he stands, feeling sorry for the boy. He sees his struggle more than anyone else in these hallowed halls.

Ben turns to face his father head on, frowning.

"How do you expect me to have one of these Knights by my side, to protect me day and night when I don't know if they will?" Ben looks back to them, still motionless. "They have not proved themselves to me, nor have they ever spoken a word to me. They're strangers."

"Don't be so dramatic," Phil clasps Ben's shoulder, and Ben looks towards the contact in annoyance. "It is their job."

"How do I know they will do their job well? They may be _your_ finest Knights, but they are not mine," Ben shrugs so that his father loses that contact, hiding it by walking back along the line of Knights.

"You're stalling," says Phil, arms behind his back. "You won't find any better."

"You do not know that."

"I do," Phil really _is_ losing his patience now. "They are worthy to stand in this hall."

Ben bites his tongue. _They were born into that right._

Deciding against it, Ben turns away, back to the table where he floats his hand over food, bread slices and cheese and grapes — everything riches can buy to eat.

"I have a proposition for you," starts Ben, plucking a grape from its stem. Phil raises his brow beside him. "You are so adamant on my image becoming stronger, yet you want to keep this decision away from the eyes of our Kingdom. It should be a grand affair, or no?"

"Well—"

"Well, how about we make it one." Ben pops the grape into his mouth, picking another as he chews, the taste juicy and sweet. "We open invitations to a grand challenge, the reward to be my Knight, to have the benefits of riches that come with it."

"Open— _preposterous!_ How do you know they're not doing it just for that? To hurt you?" Phil doesn't sound convinced. It's all Ben can think of and he needs to make it work.

"We don't, but unfortunately, the fear you inflict on our own people prevent them from lifting a finger. Whereas I, their faithful Prince, have been doing routine visits to listen to what ails them," Ben turns to Phil with a smile on his face as he pops the next grape into his mouth. "They _like_ me."

"That does not prevent the worst. You are my son, my heir! I can't allow them to simply walk into these halls so easily and turn their back on you."

"Would you go through an entire challenge just to get closer, to hurt me?"

Phil nods, "If I was an enemy to this castle, yes."

Well. He's got a point.

Besides, if his Knight ends up being disloyal, what a _shame_ it would be that Ben would no longer have one and he'll be free. Ben's desperate now because he doesn't want a shadow following him around, reporting back to his father.

But then again, if they are _completely_ Ben's Knight, _wholly_ so, then maybe he'll have someone to truly rely on and _that_ doesn't sound bad at all.

Those chances are slim, but maybe it's a chance he's willing to take.

"Then I'll test them," Ben replies.

"In what way?" 

"You will see!" Ben seems all excited, but on the inside he's dreading it. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. At least he doesn't have to pick right now, delaying the inevitable. "Part of the entertainment, is it not? I either pick here or you have various hours of tournament to pick and choose new warriors, and I'll get my Knight."

"Very well," Phil points to the Knights already here. "And they'll go up against them, to prove they are really worth our time, if you're opening the challenge to… _everyone."_

_Shit._

"Indeed," says Ben, gritting his teeth again. "I'll ask Henry to start the preparations."

Phil takes a step, meeting Ben, patting him on the back.

"I'm proud of you for stepping up, my son," Phil says, and _god,_ he sounds so ridiculously genuine it frightens Ben. "May this event be the first of your many triumphs."

Ben nods, a stern smile on his lips. He excuses himself, walking towards the grand doors once more as his shoes click against the mahogany floor. 

Henry meets his eyes on the way, and Ben sighs.

"Henry, we have work to do," Ben pushes the door open first, knowing it's Henry's job to do it.

"Yes, Sir." Henry follows after on his left side, knowing of his hearing, discussing as they go. "But may I speak freely?"

The doors shut with a thud behind them, and Ben stops at the end of the hall, cape falling forward from the speed he was walking at. As the guards are no longer in range to hear, Ben turns to him, nodding.

"You always can, mate." Ben allows his speech to fall to more comforting habits. There's no need to keep his image up around Henry.

Henry smiles, but keeps his posture, shoulders high.

"Are you sure about this?"

Ben laughs, walking again, slowly as Henry walks beside.

"No. I ain't. I just know this is the only way I'll have some power over who I choose," Ben looks out to the ocean as they venture through a hall with long, glass windows.

The castle sits on a cliff, waves crashing against the formation of rocks, the monster waves never quite reaching the flags that fly high on the spires.

"I'm sure there's someone out there for you, Sir. Someone that is loyal."

"Sure you can't sign up, old friend?" Ben laughs, and it causes Henry to laugh too.

"I'm afraid not. My years have been kind to me, but not that kind." He chuckles also, and Ben hums.

"Honestly, they'll probably get tired of the job, or me, by the end of the first week," Ben really hopes so. "Then my father will have to find another one. And I'll figure out what to do then."

"This may be good for you, Sir. Will it not?"

Ben stops, taken back.

"What do you mean by that?" Ben eyes Henry, curious, stuck between wanting to hear and not.

"A friend," Henry gestures to the empty spot beside him. "Your Knight will stand beside you throughout your reign and now, more than I am, and if you can find someone close, maybe you'll be more excited about your future."

Ben looks down, to the space between their feet, words heavy on his tongue.

"I fear all of them will want my riches rather than friendship," Ben steps closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You are one of the few I trust in this empty castle. That is all I need."

Henry smiles, but it falls as Ben steps away, hands moving behind his back. He watches as the Prince walks alone down the empty hall, on his way to start the preparations.

Ben truly believes he is alone despite the people that adore him, and that this challenge will be like a flock of crows to something shiny. Granted, he doesn't see the people that way, but he fears it's inevitable.

But maybe, just maybe, it might be the start of something different. At least he has a few days to spend as the lone Prince before it all starts.

Hope is something of magic in these lands, and Ben's never been a believer.

\- - -

_TWO DAYS LATER, THE VILLAGES_

"I don't think you should do it, mate." Lee places down his glass jar, the beer coloured like honey.

Callum doesn't quite listen to him, eyes on the paper flyer in his hands as he rests his elbows on the bar.

It's ripped in places but it's still probably worth more than what most people have around here, words written with such care and artistry that it makes Callum feel in somewhat awe that he's even holding it.

"Where's your supportive nature, boy?" Mick says, wiping a beer glass with the cloth he usually has thrown over his shoulder. "If he wants to do it, let him. He's got skill."

Callum swallows because _god,_ he's not sure if he does, to go up against other people who likely have more experience to become the _Prince's Loyal Knight._

_That's a big title._

But it's not to say he hasn't. He arrived here, adopted by the Carters when he was fourteen, having been trained where he used to live, the life he used to have. Callum's not sure where his mother is, and the last he saw of her was in walls of stone and wealth. 

Now, for some reason, he's here. He wouldn't change it for a thing, though.

"But imagine if I did, Lee," Callum glances at him. "We would never have to scrape by every winter, I could pay you all back for the hospitality you've given me."

"You'll never bloody see us again!" Lee argues, tapping the flyer with two fingers. "You'll be in that place until they rid of you, or god _forbid—"_ Lee stops himself, thankful for the inn's atmosphere and the gentle hum of conversation. Taking his time, Lee sighs as his voice becomes quiet. "Is that really what you want?"

Callum swallows, placing the flyer down, spreading his hands over the parchment as he sighs. This could be a new start for him, a break for all of them. He'd be able to pay the Carters back for taking him into their family that cold, winter's night.

"If the boy wants to do it, that's his choice," Mick throws the towel over his shoulder again. "He's a man now."

Lee grumbles, not convinced. He grew up with Callum and he fears losing him like a brother would.

"What if the challenge goes wrong?" Lee asks.

"I can fight, Lee," Callum smiles his way. "It's the only thing I remember from where I came from. They taught me early."

Lee knows the story. It doesn't need repeating.

Linda walks in carrying a basket of fruits and herbs from the market, the spring air outside still with a brisk chill from the previous winter that's just past.

"What's the commotion? I can hear you lot outside," Linda places the basket down on the bar, Mick moving it to the back through a door to avoid the conversation. Linda waits with a hand on her hip, expectant. "Well?"

"Callum wants to sign up for the Prince's challenge," says Lee, and Callum stills.

"You _what?"_ Linda scoffs. "No! No, end of story."

"Linda—"

"No, Callum. You are my _son,_ okay? I'm not letting you go off and be their entertainment. You'll — get hurt! I don't know what I'd do if that happened," Linda shakes her head, about to speak again, but she doesn't know _what_ to say.

There's talk about it all over the Kingdom, families ready to shape their last name in gold in the hall of Kings — but Callum doesn't want glory. He doesn't want to _impress_ the Prince.

He just wants his family safe, cared for. Callum doesn't want to lose another one.

Callum stands from the bar stool, pushing his loose fringe to the side of his head. Linda is shaking her head the closer Callum steps, and he brings her into a hug.

"Your mother will haunt me," she says. Linda has never met Callum's mother, but she always talks about how wonderful she must be to have raised a man like Callum. "I can't let anything happen to you, dear boy."

"Linda," Callum steps back to talk to her properly. "You raised me just as much as my mother did. I know she'd thank you for helping me to become the man I am today."

Linda sniffs, hands holding Callum's.

"But why? Why go?"

"This could help you, to give you and Mick thanks for all that you've given me," Callum shrugs. "Maybe it'll help me, too. If I become amongst their ranks, maybe I will find out what happened to my family one day."

Linda nods, understanding but still frightened. She lifts her hand to cup his cheek, hurting at the thought of losing him.

"Okay, you may go," she says, and Callum nods. "But promise me that if any fight is to go wrong, you surrender. No honour or glory, okay? You come _home."_

Mick walks back in as she says that.

"He already lost his honour dropping half my stock of glasses!" Mick bellows, a few regulars cheering as they remember.

It lifts the mood.

Callum smiles, kissing her cheek. "Of course, Linda. I promise. I may even be able to invite you to one of those grand balls afterwards."

Linda laughs, and Callum's thankful she seems to be more happy at the idea.

Lee nudges his back, knocking Callum forward as they laugh. Linda only just manages to step to the side.

"Looks like you need some help. Didn't see that comin', did you?" Lee punches his arm lightly. "You got two days, right?"

"Yeah," nods Callum. "You're okay with me going?"

"No, but you're as stubborn as we all are now. I'll help you sharpen up as much as I can before the big day. Just go easy on me," Lee holds his hands up. "Don't need no further proof you can kick my ass. We all know that."

Callum laughs, reminded of the fond memories of sparring with wooden planks and cutlery at the table when they were younger.

"Alright, let's do it."

Lee skips ahead before he sprints, heading with Callum to the back yard, out into the open field.

Callum isn't too optimistic, but maybe it'll be just the break he needs to prove himself, that he wasn't deserving to be thrown away.

It doesn't feel like that most days, but Callum feels lost, without purpose, an extra mouth for the Carters to feed.

If he becomes the Prince's Knight, he'll have worth, a purpose. Granted, it won't be the most glamorous job despite the riches, but it'll be something worth more than gold coins to Callum.

A place in this world.

\- - -

_TWO DAYS LATER_

_CHALLENGE DAY_

Ben knocks back a small glass of wine as the sounds of drums and trumpets erupt into the air. 

It won't make him drunk, but it'll make him feel less nervous, especially as the guards waiting outside for him are earlier than expected. Ben takes his royal sword from the side as he leaves his quarters, slinging it over his shoulder so it hangs over his back.

He's guided to the stable grounds of the castle, cape flowing behind him as usual, the silver leaves of his laurel sat perfectly. This day is all about Ben, about image, about how he'll lead this land into the future and more prosperous years.

Ben smiles as one of the stable hands leads a horse, already saddled and calm, tail swishing from side to side. 

"There you are," says Ben, the horse seemingly reaching for him as Ben offers his hand out. "Good gal."

Her mane is cut short to look like a small mohawk, but her tail is left long, almost to the ground as the quality of her fudge coat shimmers from the dawn.

Ben raised her, the name _Athena_ given like all of their horses being named after Gods. She stands tall and proud, built but slim in a way that promises a fast gallop.

"Let's go find a Knight, shall we?" He pats her neck, offering an apple that disappears from his hand moments later, Athena munching on it as Ben hops onto the saddle.

It's Ben's royal horse, so there's fine, embroidered detail in the saddle, a few flowers on her bridle. His father wanted something more impactful, menacing, but Athena is the offspring of his Mother's horse, and Kathy always used to ride hers with a similar bridle.

Ben tries to keep up with her wishes and traditions as much as he can.

When the rest of the guards are on horses, some walking on foot, Ben allows Athena to start walking with the click of his tongue, and the group start moving. They head down the stone path towards the first of the villages closest to the castle.

And then, only then, does Ben see the impact of his choice.

Buntins line houses, children dancing, food given out in spades as people cheer him. Ben waves to a few of them, even high fiving a kid that makes his way through the other horses to reach him.

The guards find their jobs miserable considering Ben never makes it easy for them. Phil never acknowledges anyone when he rarely ventures through his land, whereas Ben, more often than not, will spend minutes talking to one person to avoid going back.

Many of them cheer Ben's name — _Prince Ben! Prince Ben!_ It feels nice that they're happy to see him. A part of him worried they'd all hate him for even thinking of an event like this, but the more streets they travel, the more Ben realises he was entirely wrong.

He's included them in the next big step of his reign, a chance for people that aren't born in gold the same chances. 

Suddenly, he's hopeful.

If this is the crowd reaction, even if most of it is admiration, perhaps there's an even bigger chance that the warriors planning to become Knights are of the same mind.

The grand arena, centered in the middle of all the villages where plays are usually held is adorned with flags and banners, the lion sigil of the Kingdom painted in gold on flags that move with the wind.

Ben takes a deep breath, patting Athena's side as they make their way in.

"Here goes nothing."

\- - -

"Name here," the man says, sitting at a table and offering a quill for Callum to write with.

Callum does so, thankful for Linda teaching him as when he moves on, Callum looks back to others asking to write it for them.

"Wait," the man says again, tugging his sleeve, pointing to his name. "Last name?"

Callum shrugs, "I don't have one." That's what his mother said to say, always.

The man doesn't see much of it, calling over the next challenger. Considering what's about to unfold, the atmosphere here is quite electric instead of daunting. A cheering crowd, excited laughter.

Then again, they aren't the ones facing danger.

One thing Callum also notices is the amount of armour some of these warriors have. Swords, arrows and bows. Callum doesn't have either.

He walks up to one of the guards who eyes him head to toe, expectant. Judging.

"Excuse me, but where do I find the armoury?" asks Callum, keeping his hands behind his back. He has some of his best clothes on, clean and free of stains from beer.

The guard starts laughing, shrugging.

"You were meant to bring your own, mate. Was on the flyer."

_What?_

Callum reaches into his pocket to pull out the crumpled paper, looking over the writing and finding no words that the guard speaks of.

"It doesn't," Callum offers it, but the guard doesn't even look. He smirks instead.

"Ah, yes. Last minute request of the King."

Callum doesn't understand. Why make such a late rule change? He's left standing there in shock, about to turn around and leave when the gate to the corridor closes behind him.

_Shit. Shitshitshit._

Callum shoves the paper back into his pocket, walking forward and away from the chuckling guard. _Everyone_ has some sort of armour except Callum, and if that doesn't nail home that he's _going home,_ then he doesn't know what does.

The sun is bright when the group of men walk into the open field of the dirt arena, cheers erupting as the challengers all raise their swords, gaining favour and fans.

Callum, on the other hand, keeps to himself, looking around and seeing the vast area of field they have to spar in. It's more or less what he expected.

As the crowd continues to cheer, a guard asks them to line up, Callum standing at the far right of the line, standing with his head held high despite the increasing level of fear. 

He can't be afraid. Callum's been trained for this, knows how to fight. If he's made it this far in life, then he can make it further. 

This is his chance.

The crowd goes quiet, and a small man dressed in silk on the top of the podium ahead stretches his arms out.

"Welcome all! To the challenge of Knights!" He says, and the crowd cheers back, growing quiet again soon after. "We are gathered here today to find a new Knight, a Knight that will stand by Prince Ben and help lead him into the next legacy of this Kingdom!"

Callum looks to his side, in awe of the crowd, the lions carved into stone of the walls that hold up pillars with their shoulders. Ahead of him, when he turns his head back, there is a stand behind the podium that holds Phil's seat, two lions roaring over him, a torch flame lit between their fangs and their tails. Phil is all but slouched in his chair, eating his fill.

To this day, Callum has seen little of Prince Ben, only hearing rumours and occasional glances when he'd make his visits to town. He wonders how so many people hate Phil and so many adore Ben.

Maybe it's his charm, which Callum is yet to see for himself. Not long now.

"So please, welcome to the arena, Prince Ben himself!"

The crowd erupts even louder, the gate to the left side opening, guards on horses walking through first before Ben makes his appearance on Athena.

He lifts his hand and waves towards the crowd, a smile so big that Callum wonders if he's faking it or if he's genuinely happy to be here. Considering the information he was told moments ago, he doubts he'll find the truth.

Maybe Ben is unaware.

As Ben approaches the middle where twelve warriors stand, he dismounts, taking Athena's reins and handing her to a man in clean, black clothes. Callum hears the muffled name of _Henry_ before realising Ben is starting to make his way over.

Callum centers his head, holds it high, making sure his height is something to be seen. But he waits, and he waits, Ben never seeming to move for moments at a time as he looks upon every man here.

Ben doesn't speak a word to them as he starts to walk along the line, hands behind his back as his cape flows elegantly behind him.

Callum swallows the lump in his throat, the wind cold as it breezes past. There's silence, until there isn't.

"Where is your sword?" 

Callum blinks, looking down to see _Ben_ standing there, blue eyes so vibrant Callum almost loses his balance. Ben looks over his face, then down his body, a chuckle escaping his lips.

"Where is your armour?" Ben asks again, and Callum thinks he's about to move on any second now, but he tilts his head, waiting.

Ben wants an answer.

"Your Highness," Callum nods his head, and Ben's expression softens, lips parting for a moment before they close. His eyes scan Callum's face before he hums, as if to say _get on with it._ "I didn't bring one."

Ben clicks his tongue, looking back to the other warriors who all stand in full gear. These are his father's Knights.

_Typical._

Turning to a nearby guard, Ben shouts over to him.

"Guard! Why has this man not been given any aid?" Ben keeps still, cape moving in the wind as the guard flinches.

"There were none to provide him with, Prince."

Ben has his answer. Of course his father wouldn't allow him this, to trust outsiders that aren't born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

Callum sets his eyes to look over Ben's shoulder, not daring to look back at him.

Ben finally turns his focus back to Callum, eyes falling on his lips before bringing them back up to his eyes. He's struck by how — _bright_ they are, almost innocent. 

"Where are you from?" Ben asks, and his heart thumps heavy when Callum makes eye contact again.

A word falls onto Ben's tongue, unspeakable.

_Beautiful._

"A village to the south of here, your Highness. An Inn."

"Inn? And why are you here today?" Ben takes a slow step forward, waiting for Callum to flinch back as the length of a hand separates them.

Nothing. Callum remains still.

"To be your Knight," replies Callum, his eyes falling to the floor, not sure if he's even able to look Ben in the eye without breaking some sort of rule.

"Is that all?" Ben asks again, only to add more. "Look up. You do not have to look down in front of me."

Callum brings his gaze back up, slowly, taking a deep breath as Ben meets his eyes again. His lungs feel tight.

"That is all," Callum replies, and Ben seemingly accepts it considering he's the _only_ villager here. He imagines the others left because of his father making it unfair.

"Very well." Ben smiles, keeping his hands behind his back. He wants to reach out and brush that stray hair that falls from Callum's fringe. He can't, so he brushes his thumb into his palm to distract himself.

Callum feels like looking away again, struck by the reality of the Prince standing before him, his charm and aura true to the rumours. 

Short hair, stubble, a scar on his right brow, a soft curve to his smile. He's — _handsome,_ as any Prince should be, but Callum has never expressed attraction to anyone before, nevermind a man.

Maybe it's the sun, the nerves building up, the presence he has that demands admiration. At least, that's what he thinks until he realises they've just been staring all this time.

Callum parts his lips to apologise, but Ben beats him to it.

"What is your name?"

 _Oh._ Callum's heart pounds. Perhaps he knows all of their names and not Callum's, but it didn't seem like he cared for the others anyway.

He's only stopped to talk to Callum. Not that it matters. It shouldn't matter, but he feels tongue tied at the thought of it.

"You do not need my name," replies Callum, and Ben starts to frown. "I am here to prove myself, to serve you. My name is not important, not unless I win."

Ben doesn't say anything, still staring with that slight frown as he clicks his tongue. Callum realises his mistake as the guards turn to look at him.

"You _deny_ the Prince? How _dare—"_

 _"Enough,"_ Ben's voice thunders towards the guard as he turns to look over his shoulder, his eyes piercing and warm despite the blue. "Let him speak."

Callum blinks as Ben turns back to him, whispering _sorry about him_ and winking. Seeing him go from demanding Prince to that soft smile, it curls something warm in his chest. Callum's lips break into a small smile to match before becoming neutral again.

"Well, man with no name, I have a deal for you," Ben reaches back, unsheathes his sword, bringing it over his head to hold between them as the blade glimmers. The crowd fall to complete silence.

The silver sword is finely crafted, blacksmithed by the finest in this Kingdom, only meant to be held by the Prince. Ben has never been one for rules.

Ben turns it around, the blade glimmering once more in the sun as the red, warm handle is offered to Callum. The engraving along the side is that of lions, roaring as they battle, weighted perfectly from blade tip to hilt.

"We can't be having an unfair fight," Ben says, Callum looking between the sword and Ben, stunned. "So, how about you take my sword as a trade, and if you win, I may know your name?"

Callum hesitates, but his hand lifts to take the sword, fingers brushing with Ben's and the result is almost magic. His stomach lifts, Ben smiling as he allows Callum to take the full weight of it, the deal struck between them.

The crowd begin to whisper, entertained by the turn of events.

Ben is testing him already, leaving himself defenseless and Callum with all the cards to play and yet — nothing. He simply stands there in awe, lifting it with one hand behind his back so that the blade covers one half of Ben's face.

It's glorious, and somehow, Callum is holding it.

"Look after it, won't you?" Asks Ben, nodding as Callum nods, about to shake off the tingling in his chest but Ben finds himself speaking again, wanting to stay. "Good luck."

"Thank you — your Highness."

Ben smiles his way, joining Henry and Athena as they walk past.

Callum feels that every eye in the arena is on _him,_ the one holding the Prince's sword. It doesn't feel heavy at all, in fact, it feels perfect, meant for him, easy to hold at his side.

The Knights beside him glance down the line, some chuckling and others looking down their noses.

Somehow, the Prince has chosen his favourite to win, and despite his father's best efforts, seething as he sits in his chair, it's a man from a village inn and no name.

Ben looks down to them as he takes his place near his father, Henry standing beside Ben's chair.

"I'm guessing your father made sure it was only his Knights," Henry starts, thankful they're sitting out of earshot.

"You guess correct, friend," Ben sighs, leaning forward in his chair as he focuses entirely on Callum, fingers to his lips in thought. "But one made it through. That is all I need."

"Of course," Henry did watch the exchange himself. "He seems genuine."

"He is…" Ben stops himself from the words his heart pushes, boundless towards his tongue.

_Handsome. Intriguing. A mystery worth solving._

Henry smiles beside him, but he doesn't wish to curse anything, not when the man with no name still needs to win.

"I hope the Gods look down on him, Henry," Ben glances to the other Knights, angry that Ben did not favor them at all. "I fear he's in for a rough fight."

"He has your blessing, Prince," Henry pats his shoulder, the metal pad clinging with his wedding ring. "I think that's all he will need."

And at that moment, Callum finds Ben with his eyes. It feels as if it's only them.

Ben's heart twists, sings, melts all the same when Callum looks away again. He's not sure what this feeling is, but he knows that the entire time he was standing there, all he wanted to do was push that loose strand of hair back onto his head.

A sign of affection.

He doesn't even know his _name,_ and yet Ben is enthralled by him. A man that stands with nothing to lose or gain, yet shines the brightest out of all of them.

Callum may have spoken to him as any other would, but that small act of defiance, not giving his name, it intrigues Ben to find out why. He's treating Ben as an equal, so rarely done because it's seen as rude, _punished,_ even, and he still did so, offering that trade to prove himself first instead of showing confidence and the need to win.

He's calculated. Bold. Ben likes that, _and_ his smile. It looks like he shares no real gauge of respect for leadership even when faced with it, and _that_ is promising to him, to find someone loyal to _only_ Ben, not his father.

Ben nods towards the speaker that waits expectantly, and the man on the podium opens his arms wide once again.

_"Let the challenge commence!"_


	2. a deal said and done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for such kind comments on the last chapter!!
> 
> this is gonna be a slow burn but i hope the build up will be worth it.
> 
> **edit: for some reason the update made the fic 2/2 chapters, thats not the case, sorry!**

_ chapter 2. a deal said and done _

The atmosphere is electric, thunder striking down when swords clash. At times, when the blades hit just right, sparks fly, rare and golden that frame anything reflective.

It's the last thing Knight number three sees — the slow motion picture of Callum deflecting his swing, eyes focused as he stares between the blades, sparks framing the iris of his eye in a golden line.

He knows he's lost when Callum has that clean step to the side, turning round, swinging the sword in an arc that collides with the sound of a drum to the Knight's back armour.

Thrown forward, the Knight eats the dirt he collides with, an adrenaline rush to stand back up, but the air is pushed from his chest when Callum holds him there, a foot to his back.

Cold metal prickles the back of the Knight's neck, holding his breath. Callum's sword.

It's a silent command —  _ yield.  _

Thinking, the Knight tries to see a way out, but there's nothing.

Ben watches on, a smirk growing behind his closed fist as he leans on the arm of his chair. He'd love to see the look on his father's face right now, the smug expectation replaced by mortal hatred.

_ These are the best Knights we have —  _ a statement that's now at the feet of Callum as the third Knight resigns. 

Callum moves his sword away, steps off the man and stands, ready for the next. It's a gauntlet, facing round after round until one is victorious, and yet Callum has made it to the fourth.

There's no red on his sword, no scratch, no damage. He's not dropped it once, forever kept held in his hand like it's welded to his skin. 

He's keeping Ben's wish to look after it, to treasure it, to use it and prove himself without making a show.

Well, in Ben's eyes, he is.

Ben has no idea that behind all of that mechanical, tuned muscle with the knowledge - somehow - to fight like  _ that  _ is also a man more clumsy than jelly.

Here, though, in the roar of the arena and the blaring sun, Callum seems to flourish. Not wearing any armour gives him a speed advantage, but it's also his biggest disadvantage.

One mistake could cost him. He's given every opponent he's faced a chance to walk away - which they've all taken - but Callum knows that he probably won't get that chance.

So, he fights. His body locks and then unlocks like a spring, giving him that viper strike speed and the bold strength of a lion.

Ben is amazed watching him, the way he's so calculated, efficient, allowing them the first move or doing it himself. It's like he reads people, judges how they stand, what foot they'll move first. 

It has Ben on the edge of his seat as the next round starts, Callum taking a deep breath towards the sky. His chest expands and deflates, the harsh sound heard by his opponent, waiting for the bell.

Stamina will also be tested, how long he's willing to go, how long he's willing to fight for a place at Ben's side.

As the bell sounds, the crowd erupts, and Ben frowns as neither warrior moves. Callum remains still, still taking those deep breaths until his opponent starts moving.

They circle each other, eyes focused, Callum gripping the hilt of the sword even more, thumb feeling the engraving as they dance in this circle.

Callum can wait. He can use this time to recover, to prepare.

It's not until Phil's bellowing voice that something happens.

_ "Fight! You're a Knight of my kingdom! Bring him down!" _

And like that, the Knight charges, fueled on by his leader's battle cry, sword up and shield raised—

_ Thump. _

Callum has him on the floor in seconds, tripping him up, the sweet satisfaction of a smile on his lips as he holds a much smaller blade to the man's throat, taken from his second fight and slotted into his boot when not in use.

"You should watch where you're running," Callum nudges his head in a certain direction, and as he stands up, the Knight lifts on to his elbows to look ahead.

A scrap of armour from an earlier battle rests on the floor, a shoulder pad Callum knocked off Knight number one.

He turns to frown at Callum, about to get up, but Callum falls with a knee to his chest, forearm to his throat.

Ben starts laughing, Henry with an amused smile beside him. Phil sends a glare towards Ben's back, only for his son to turn around and rub it in.

"How  _ embarrassing,"  _ says Ben, allowing his victorious smile to irritate his father that little bit more. "Thought you said these were the best we've got? Rather worrying, don't you think?"

Phil does nothing but look back to the arena, sitting up with his head high.

"He has a long way to go yet. He'll tire."

Ben turns back with a hum, watching as Callum still has the Knight pinned.

Again, Callum's eyes say it all, the strength in his hold to not let the man go. Lions  _ never  _ let go.

Another victory for Callum, eventually, when the Knight allows his ego to crumble. It's only when he stands up and walks away does he realise Callum was leading him in that odd, circle stand off so that he'd be in direct contact  _ with  _ that armour.

Callum doesn't just use his strength, his knowledge. He uses the environment, adapts every second he's there like every second  _ costs. _

It does cost him, eventually.

The fifth Knight he battles is brutal, cunning. He misses teeth and the growl he makes in his throat is almost animal, frightening Callum when he first encounters him up close.

He whispers words of defeat to Callum, a mental game, and his focus slips for a mere second.

_ Slice. _

Callum feels the sharp pain shoot up his arm, dropping Ben's sword with a clang against the dirt. He has to step back to avoid another swing from the man, now even further away from his only chance at winning.

Ben stands up from his chair, two seconds away from shouting to halt the fight — but he can't. Callum has to fight this on his own.

Henry notices how Ben clenches his fists at his sides, gritting his teeth.

"It's not over yet, Sir," he says, hoping to provide some comfort.

Callum on the other hand, looks down to his left bicep, the red colour almost nauseating. It's nothing too major, but the pain is there, throbbing as it seeps into his best shirt. 

"Bit slow there, lad," the man mocks, a sickening laugh that's more hissing than joyful tones. "Just step down, yeah? Let  _ us  _ protect what we were born to do."

Callum glares back at him, hand gripping just below his wound to see if it's bruised. He won't be able to tend to it until the fight is over, so somehow, he needs to find the strength to get through it.

He's a much bigger man, his opponent, and with his arm almost useless from the fresh pain, Callum has to reset himself, to keep his posture strong and work out a plan.

The Knight charges again, this time Callum being ready for the swing, the words of hatred, the spit that flies his way.

Callum draws closer to that desired moment.

It's when he starts to see the crack in the Knight's ego, the grunts because he can't seem to hit Callum, and he's running out of stamina with the effort to get this done quickly.

Every step back for Callum is one breath, whereas for the Knight and all that bulky, metal armour is almost two or three breaths,  _ four  _ when he adds a swing of his sword.

It all adds up, eventually.

Callum waits, takes a deep breath when the window opens more, and  _ only  _ carries that step forward after the Knight swings with little energy, his good arm wrapping around him in a headlock from behind, kicking the back of his knees to get him to fall.

The Knight has wide eyes, releasing he's on his knees in front of the podium where Ben and Phil are sitting.

Callum dares himself to look up, Ben staring back down at him as a crooked smile appears on his lips. Callum doesn't send one back, but the warmth his chest floods with only makes him thrive, locking his arm tighter.

_ "Yield,"  _ Callum whispers, hoarse. The Knight complains, trying to reach back but only able to scratch at Callum's forearm.

The way Callum holds him, pulling him to the sky with his foot to the back of his knees as he stands, the Knight will break if he doesn't throw in the towel soon. Ben bites his tongue at the way his wrists tickle, at how he was so close to this man an hour ago in much simpler, kinder air.

Now, Callum has a more overbearing, wicked cloud above his head, like nothing will escape him with the tornado that he is.

_ "Fine! Fine!"  _ The Knight coughs, voice gurgling from strangled breath. 

Callum pushes him to the floor, giving himself time to relax, his chest rising and falling from having spent so much time completely tense in that last minute of the fight.

Ben doesn't clap like the audience does, only sits back down, elbow on either arm of his chair. It's still not over.

Callum takes this time between the bell to tend to his wound. He rips his shirt sleeve from the elbow downwards, ripping it again down the seam to create one long bandage.

Wrapping it around his bicep, he holds one end with his teeth, the other with his hand and then ties it in a knot. It'll do, for now. At least it's stopped bleeding.

As the next Knight Callum has to face walks into the arena, Callum walks over to retrieve Ben's sword, lost to the dirt.

His thumb rubs at the material of the handle, removing said dirt and any from the blade. It's that dedication and somewhat small detail that makes Ben certain on his decision.

As the fighting goes on, Callum shows no sign of stopping, swords clashing with a shrill metal sound, cheers erupting as they drop one after the other only to crush their ego to find the easy way out.

Ben wonders why he doesn't. Maybe it's not in his blood to do so, and the kindness Ben saw in Callum's eyes is nothing short of the truth.

It's all he can think about, the possibility of knowing the man with no name, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together in thought as Callum kicks another Knight to the ground.

Phil leaves halfway through, having seen enough, and the crowd doesn't even notice, too busy cheering another win as Callum holds the tip of his sword to the forehead of Knight number twelve.

_ He's won. _

"And we have a winner! Everyone, please cheer for the new Knight of our Kingdom!" The man in silk claps his hands, the fabric of his dress moving with him.

The crowd are louder than ever, a man of their own little villages winning against coin and gold itself.

Callum's shoulders drop, as if whatever demon possessed him during that fight is gone, knowing that for now, he doesn't have to keep fighting.

Sweat drips from his forehead, feels it in his shirt as it clings to his skin. He pushes his hair back, looking around as he breathes oxygen back into his body. The crowd is cheering for  _ him,  _ for  _ Callum,  _ and the feeling of pride swells in his stomach, making him feel lightheaded.

It seems impossible that he's done it, but he has, smiling as he loosens his grip on Ben's sword, no longer holding with strength but with care, thumb moving over the gold.

Ben stands up from his seat, a smile so big on his lips that it even shocks Henry.

"Well, would you look at that," says Ben, shaking his head. "How did he learn to fight like  _ that?" _

"Maybe something you should consider, sir. Or, to be cautious about." Henry can only advise, and Ben faces him to debate his words for a moment.

He's right, after all. Ben has to be careful. The risk of opening invitations to anything and anyone is the danger he's taken to avoid another puppet string on his mind from father.

"Indeed," says Ben, brushing the stubble at his cheek with his thumb. "Head back and inform the others, won't you? Whitney, Jay, Keegan — inform them they'll be needed either today or tomorrow."

"Either today or tomorrow, sir?" Henry is rather confused.

"I'll ask him if he needs rest on our way back," Ben turns back to Callum, who at that moment also turns to meet him, eyes silently speaking to each other. "I'd like to speak with him, make good on our deal."

Henry hums, nodding beside him, "I will make haste, sir."

"Thank you, Henry," Ben nods his thanks, heading to the stairs that lead down to the arena ground.

Callum follows him the entire time, eyes trained on him as Ben does the same for Callum. The crowd is silent when Ben steps into that arena, cape flowing behind him again as he approaches Callum, hands behind his back.

Callum lowers his head when Ben arrives in front of him, taking a breath before dropping to one knee. Callum holds Ben's sword with his good hand, offering the handle in his direction as he presses the tip of the blade into the dirt.

It's submission, the final act of knowing his new duty to  _ be  _ Ben's sword.

Callum still breathes with the effort of fighting, sweat now drying on his skin. Ben's eyes drop to his wound for mere moments as he asks, "Does it hurt?"

Callum pauses, not expecting that, looking up slowly to be met with the softness of Ben's gaze.

"No, it does not." Callum is about to look back down again when he realises he's forgotten his formality.

Ben stops him before he can add it.

"Do not lie to me," Ben says, sharp. "You have proven yourself enough for today, haven't you? You are allowed to feel the effects of that."

Callum swallows, head down once more.

"It stings, but won't stop me." He forgets again, but it doesn't seem to bother Ben at all. He should be calling him  _ Sir, Prince — anything  _ to show he's of a higher importance but Ben doesn't seem to mind.

At least at the moment he doesn't.

Ben takes a step closer, hesitant. He reaches his hand out, fingertips falling gently onto Callum's cheek like a whisper, soft as they move round to his chin, lifting his head up slowly with two fingers and a thumb.

Ben's lungs stutter at the scratch of his stubble, the warmth of him. He can't think like this, but there's no denying his attraction, and for them, it's all they'll have if Callum feels the same way.

They barely know each other, and love between a Knight and a Prince?  _ Forbidden. _

Callum stops breathing for a moment, the world blurring as Ben's entire focus falls on Callum, and  _ only  _ Callum.

"Rise," Ben speaks gently, only for Callum to hear. "You do not have to kneel for me anymore."

At the request, Callum takes his time, unsure, but he stands up slowly afterwards. He keeps his eyes on Ben, never looking away, using the sword as support for his tired bones. He's starting to feel it now, the ache of fighting.

When he reaches full height, Callum still holds the sword between them, and Ben's eyes fall to that hold, knowing he won't be able to look Callum in the eye while he stands in his shadow. It makes his heart dangerous.

Ben's hand falls from Callum's chin, moving to the handle of the sword, fingertips brushing against the material, deciding then and there not to take it back.

"You fight like a champion," starts Ben, eyes wandering back up his body until they meet his eyes and  _ god —  _ this man will swear an oath tomorrow that will sound nothing short of devotion.

Ben's heart wants to break free of its cage, more than ever before. 

"I fight like I've been taught, Sir. I hope you— I hope you are pleased." Callum looks down to their feet again, unable to match Ben's gaze any longer.

"Oh, I am. I don't think I've seen anyone fight like you do. I think I'll be the person that's most safe in this Kingdom," chuckles Ben. "You fought well. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Sir," Callum nods, his posture as still as steel, and Ben wants to find out what makes it work, what makes Callum feel human.

Ben smiles for a short while, Callum never quite seeing it as he waits. Also waiting are the crowd, eager for something to happen and the spark of gossip amongst neighbours. They would've had something to say about that touch if Ben wasn't so cautious when doing it.

As the air grows still, a lot of the crowd begin to leave, satisfied with the entertainment and happiness in their stride. It's a victory for them, too.

"Guard," Ben clicks his fingers to a man that stands near, and he jumps into action to take whatever order Ben has for him. "Fetch Athena and a horse for my Knight."

_ My Knight —  _ it sounds so surreal, especially to Callum, who takes those seconds Ben isn't looking at him to glance over his face, the scar on his eyebrow, the silver leaves in his hair. He'll be close to this man for the rest of his life, and that doesn't quite sink in. Not yet, anyway.

The guard runs off to complete his task, Ben turning back to Callum just as the new Knight looks back down to the floor. Ben would ask him not to, but maybe it's for the best.

"Your ceremony will be tomorrow, so you have the rest of the day to recover and speak with some lovely people who will help prepare you for that very day," Ben takes his hand away from the sword, reaching back to unclip his sword holder, a scabbard. "Also, this belongs to you now."

Callum blinks as Ben hands it to him with both hands, fine leather knitted together by a talented craftsman.

"Me?"

Ben nods, "Yes. You use it better than I ever will, and even though you have yet to swear an oath, you may give it back tomorrow for that very purpose before I hand it back."

"Thank you, Prince," Callum takes it from him with gentle hands, a far cry from the strength he used earlier. 

Ben watches as he slings it over his head, the sword following after, sheathing it down towards his back, the  _ click  _ following as it rests perfectly inside.

As Callum stands with his hands behind his back, hands together, Ben takes a moment to stare, to wonder, to admire. 

"Suits you," comments Ben, and the moment Callum registers those words, his eyes search to find Ben's.

_ Does he say thanks? Does he not say anything at all? _

Callum has that choice decided for him as guards arrive with Athena and another horse. While Athena resembles a warm toffee in her coat, the other horse is a much darker brown with a pink nose. Their mane is left long, and their tail is braided into one single column of hair.

"Do you know how to ride?" Ben asks, regardless of the way it makes him want to laugh.

Callum simply nods, approaching the horses with quiet, tame steps. Ben decides to watch from a few steps back, only moving forward when the horses both look towards him, nudging him.

Athena is a tough judge of character, but even she seems to settle around Callum. Ben takes that into account.

"They're beautiful," says Callum, giving each of them a small rub to the front of their nose, then up between their eyes.

One of the guards doesn't like that.

"Do not touch the Prince's horse," demands a guard beside them, glaring at Callum, who takes his hand away from the horse as if he's been burned.

Ben's had quite enough of these guards, turning his head to glare at the man who spoke out of line. He knows which one it is when they meet Ben's stare, their own eyes going wide when Ben begins to walk over, the guard visibly shrinking.

Ben takes a fist full of his shirt that sits over his armour at the top, jolting him out of his mechanical posture.

Callum can only look on.

"My word is law around here,  _ not  _ you. If I have a problem with what  _ my  _ new Knight does, then I'll speak to him myself," Ben lets him go, the guard taking a step back in ragdoll fashion. "If you'd like to challenge that, be my guest! But, I'm sure you were one of the many hundreds that witnessed this man floor several of our finest warriors. You are merely a guard, a person who failed that next step to become a warrior, is that correct?"

Ben steps closer again, talking through his teeth, "You may kiss my father's feet, but I do not. When he isn't around, you take  _ my  _ orders. Understand?"

The guard nods, bowing his head before stepping back and leaving the arena itself. At least Ben didn't have to dismiss him.

When he turns back to Callum, he looks somewhat afraid, and Ben partially regrets it, but he's not here to win this man over. Callum's here to do a job, and Ben still has his job to do, too.

Maybe this is the part of the rumours, the ones that speak of him following after his father in tone. Callum wants to believe otherwise, that he hasn't signed the dotted line in protecting a man he would never like to be around.

"Apologies," Ben clears his throat as Callum turns away. "They grow tiresome too often."

Callum nods, not sure what to say as Ben walks up to Athena, hopping up onto the saddle.

"Shall we?" He says from where he sits, Callum walking round to hop on his new horse.

He doesn't speak again, only nodding. With Callum ready to move on back to the castle, Ben nods towards a few guards still waiting by their horses to lead them out of the arena on foot.

Callum feels his stomach churn as they leave, realising that now, he won't return to the life he had before this. It'll be Ben, the kingdom and nothing else until the end.

Which makes his heart sink thinking about what Lee said, that today might be their only chance to see them before he might not again.

"Wait— Prince Ben?" Callum speaks up, causing Ben to look over his shoulder, halting Athena. Thank heavens Callum is on his left side or he wouldn't have heard him.

Callum stumbles with the reins, unable to stop the horse, but Ben reaches out just in time to tug gently, making the horse stop.

Their eyes meet as Callum laughs, embarrassed.

"What is it?" Ben saves him from it.

"I wanted to ask something about my family, well, the people at the inn. Would I be able to see them before we go back?" Callum looks hopeful, and maybe he's just short of putting too much trust in Ben already. "That is, if we have time, I don't know if you are due to— do anything else today, Sir."

Ben finds him adorable, but confusing. It's a far cry from the man he watched minutes ago, calm and calculated.

How can a man fight like  _ that _ and now stumble over his words? 

Ben wants to grant that wish, to see his family at the inn, but he can't stretch his power that far. Not today.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. We must head back or I'm afraid my father will curse us, and the most breathing room I can grant you before that is the scenic route back to the castle," Ben seems sorry, almost. "I will ask Henry to send them a letter, to give them the news. I'm afraid it'll only put them in danger if you reveal who they are by seeing them in person. At the moment," Ben nods his head to the side, "everyone is looking, and they'll know, even the people you don't want to know."

Ben's right. It's better to be safe than sorry, even though his heart aches at never seeing them again. Callum can see that Ben is bothered by that, the way he turns away, full of regret that he can't grant that wish.

"One day," says Ben, breaking the silence. "One day I hope to grant you that."

Callum smiles, nodding. That's all he needs.

"I would like—"  _ No, he can't talk like that.  _ "That scenic route sounds nice," replies Callum, thumb scratching at the material of the reins.

"It is," Ben gets Athena walking again, the guards in front still there on foot. "I can show you more of the grounds if we go that way."

Callum hums, "Sounds good, Sir."

"Also, how is your wound?" Ben turns again to see him, eyes falling to his arm for a moment.

"It's fine. No longer bleeding, Sir."

"Good," Ben says. "That's good."

The air grows quiet now, and Callum can't help but smile as people cheer near them, congratulating them as they walk through the rest of the village. It's starting to sink in, almost.

\- - -

Around ten minutes later, they reach a fork in the road. One leads directly to the castle in the distance, and the other leads them into heavy woods.

Ben steers the group onto the second path, breathing the air that greets him, knowing he has some extra time before the inevitable starts.

Ceremony preparation.

The ceremony itself.

A grand ball to celebrate the occasion,  _ showing off  _ in a sense to neighbouring kingdoms.

Callum and Ben are at the center, the new duo that will lead this Kingdom when Ben's father no longer can.

It may be years until that moment, but considering Ben has now taken the first step to that big role, obtaining a Knight, he fears his father will only push him to take even bigger steps.

He can't think, can't enjoy this moment of peace with these thoughts. So, he tries to block it out, to focus on something else.

Maybe going through these years won't be too bad with more company, with the man that rides beside him — but they barely know each other. Hell, Ben doesn't even know his name yet.

The man with no name — that's something to think about.

Ben smiles at Callum when he looks over, their horses walking slowly, hooves thumping when they meet the ground.

Callum has to look away, Ben's smile so charming, air caught in his throat. 

He wishes he could talk freely, to ask him the questions he wants to ask — but also to test him. Ben wants to trust Callum more than anything, and if he gives him openings to do his worst, then at least his attraction won't go much further if he finds out Callum is the enemy. In fact, he thinks he might become heartbroken if that  _ were  _ to happen.

_ God, _ Ben's lonely. That fact is more true than anything he knows, and he can't deny it.

The guards walking in front make it hard to breathe, the reminder of his father like a hawk overhead.

"Leave us," says Ben, and at first, Callum doesn't know who he's speaking to.

The guards in front of them turn around, stopping, making the horses stop.

"What? Prince—"

_ "Leave us,"  _ Ben commands again, raising one brow as if to say  _ get a move on  _ when the guards remain standing, caught in headlights almost.

"You will have no protection," they say, looking to each other before looking at Callum.

Ben clicks his tongue. He notices, and frankly, his patience is wearing thin,  _ again. _

"I didn't ask for your opinion, did I?" Ben shrugs, nodding his head towards the road ahead of them. "Leave us, and if you've  _ already  _ forgotten, this man is my Knight. He's all the protection I'll need."

Callum feels like the spotlight is on him for a moment, all eyes turning to him, even Ben, giving Callum a reassuring smile as the guards splutter and stutter.

Eventually, they nod, leaving Callum and Ben on their own, the wilderness of the forest around them.

"Forgive me," says Ben, alternating how he holds Athena's reins. "I wanted to speak to you alone without my father's ears."

Callum watches as the guards fade into the distance, talking amongst themselves, probably about Ben. But then —  _ what?  _ Ben's father isn't here, so how would they know anything they say?

Ben laughs, "Sorry."

"Huh?"

"The look on your face," Ben taps his own cheek to prove a point. "You look like I was talking nonsense."

"I— Sorry," Callum feels himself blush. Once again forgetting his formatily, he makes a move to repair it, lips parting a moment before he speaks. "I mean, Sir—"

_ "Ben,"  _ he says, smiling that charming smile. "Please, just call me Ben. At least, when it's just us."

Callum takes a while to process that, but he nods, allowing Ben to lead them on as he tells Athena to walk forward. Callum's horse follows beside, still on the left side of Ben.

The birds around them sing, gliding from branch to branch, and Callum looks up in awe, the sunlight just breaking through the trees.

He doesn't notice Ben looking at him, curious, open in his expression because Callum doesn't look like he could hurt anyone. Yet, minutes ago, he was flooring every Knight that's loyal to the Kingdom.

Now, he sits on his horse with relaxed shoulders, his eyes blooming in gentle colour, an air of  _ peace. _

"I wanted to speak with you without the guards because — well, they are under the thumb of my father," Ben keeps talking, looking ahead. "Everything we would've said, they report back. I want to talk to you without that over my shoulders."

Callum understands, somewhat.

"Is it like that all the time?"

"Unfortunately," Ben shrugs. "I am his heir. He likes to think I'm a puppet just as much as his guards."

Ben keeps his eyes in front, knowing one glance to Callum might cause him to trip. Their bodies move with the pace and sway of the horses.

"Are you?" asks Callum, looking ahead himself. 

"No," chuckles Ben. "I pretend that I am, and it seems to work out. Saying that, though, I'll never hear the end of you winning that challenge, and I'll have to act like it was a shame that you  _ did  _ win."

Callum chuckles himself now too, and the sound is so light and warm that Ben hears the thump of his own heart.

"I'm guessing he doesn't like that I wasn't one of his Knights, right?"

"No, he doesn't. In fact, he'll probably make it his mission to have you leave," Ben finally has the strength to look over, smiling at Callum. "It's your job to protect me, but it's  _ my  _ job to protect you."

Callum meets him, and for a moment, they stare like there's nothing else in this world that could possibly matter more than this moment.

"You haven't asked for my name," Callum keeps his eyes on Ben, even as he looks away, adjusting the reins again.

"I didn't want to," Ben sounds almost sad about it. "I didn't think it would be kind of me. Names are something we have that's truly ours, and if you want to keep that, then that's fine by me." 

There's truly not much in this world Callum has to call his own, and maybe Ben recognises that. Not in the rude  _ I know I have more than you and it's pity  _ sense of understanding, but having it as Callum's choice. It might be safer if he doesn't give his name overall.

"Tomorrow you will swear an oath to me and that's it, you'll be a Knight and nothing more in the Kingdom's eyes. I do not want that for you, to feel that you're nothing but a tool. I am not my father, I promise you that." Ben feels as if he shouldn't be speaking so openly, but he can feel Callum's stare, hanging on to his every word.

"Thank you," says Callum, biting his bottom lip in thought. "That's kind of you."

"I try to be," replies Ben. "I try to be better than my father, and I know there's rumours, but I try."

"The rumours aren't bad at all, Sir." Callum still hasn't spoken Ben's name, and it leaves something lingering in Ben's chest, a longing he has to bury.

"Oh, so you've heard them?" Ben all but chuckles with his words, ignoring his faint heart, leaning over to whisper even though he doesn't need to. "Do tell?"

Ben's expression is so mischievous that Callum can't help but smile, a warmth that simmers under his skin from those eyes again. He knows he's not allowed to look too long, to look down at Ben, but Callum can't help himself.

He drags his gaze away, unsure of how to say the rumours he speaks of without making his heart race.

"They say you're — cunning." That's a good start, but not exactly the one he was worried about.

"Yes, I've heard of that one," Ben no longer leans over, content with this conversation as Callum's horse splashes its hooves in a puddle. "What else?"

"Some say you're nice, that you are charming, that you listen." Callum's running out of neighbouring words.

Ben hums, "Sometimes."

With that, Callum remembers back to when they were at the arena, the deep tone in which Ben spoke in, the posture he held. It makes Callum's spine turn cold — but then he falls back on what he just said, the kindness he's offering Callum.

Maybe he's doing his best to warm Callum up, to have their relationship be tolerable considering they'll be stepping on each other's feet for the rest of their lives.

_ Rest of their lives.  _ It sounds so final, frightening.

"Knight?" 

Callum blinks, realising he's been in a daze, allowing his focus to fall on the path ahead. When he turns to Ben, Ben offers a smile.

"Sorry," says Callum, huffing. "Got lost."

"We all do, sometimes," replies Ben, shrugging. "Any more rumours?"

"Uh, yes — mostly from the women. They say you're— well."

_ Holy shit why is this so hard to say? It's not like he means it from himself, right? But then he has said it. To himself. In his thoughts. _

_ Shit. _

Callum sighs, inaudible to the Prince, but he does spare a glance to Ben that does nothing to settle his nerves. This isn't a big deal. It's just telling him what other people have said.

"They say you're handsome."

There it is. That wasn't so bad after all — but then his heart drops, lifting soon after and the warmth that turns his ears red makes him all embarrassed because Ben doesn't say anything in reply. 

Ben watches him, a genuine smile curving his lips that hides away when Callum glances quickly towards him, only to turn away again.

"Well," starts Ben, unsure if he should say this, but his veins flood with the need to establish some sort of friendly, open bond with him. "Are they true?"

"What?" Callum replies way too quickly.

"That I'm handsome," Ben shrugs as if he has no idea, like he doesn't know the answer himself. "Is it true?"

Callum feels like falling off the horse and sprinting into the trees, but then he takes a breath and it's just them, the birds, the horses as they walk steady.

There's no one here to judge. Ben might, but the smile on his lips promises nothing but kindness.

For a second, Callum holds his hand on his chin, thumb moving over the place Ben touched him, the tingle that still washes over his skin at the thought of it. To Ben, it appears that he's just thinking, but Callum is remembering, trying to find the answer he already knows.

"You are a Prince," replies Callum, his hand now brushing the side of his neck. "It would be rude to say you aren't."

Ben clicks his tongue, but it's not in a manner of annoyance. If anything, he looks at Callum with a fondness only shared between long lost friends.

"You can have your own opinion, mate," Ben laughs, leaning his head back to take in the overarching trees. "I won't leave you here if you do find me handsome, quite the opposite. You'll become my favourite."

Callum laughs quietly to himself, trying to will away the blush he can feel, dipping his head so Ben can't see his smile.

"I cannot say," speaks Callum. Ben keeps his eyes on him. "I am your Knight, not an admirer."

Ben tilts his head, the air left open as if Callum hasn't finished. He hasn't.

"I'm sure you are not short of admirers, though," Callum adds, looking ahead again, the right side of his face burning from Ben's glare. "Because of the rumours, of course."

The air grows silent for a moment, and Ben has to look away as well, trying to fight back his smile, teeth tugging at his lip.

"I see," replies Ben, wrapping Athena's reins tighter around his grip. He wishes he could keep speaking to him, to talk to him like anyone else would.

Going back to the castle means he has to pull the golden blind over himself, to become the perfect Prince, and yet all he wants to do is ride down this trail every morning and speak to Callum as men, not Prince and Knight.

Maybe they could have that, but it seems far out of reach. Callum might become as lifeless as anyone else in this Kingdom if his father has anything to say about it.

"When we get back," starts Ben, hoping the change in conversation will bring Callum out of his shy hold on himself, "you will meet some of my friends. One of them will see to your wound upon arrival, another will work on your new clothes, and another will make sure you settle into the castle well and craft whatever you need."

Callum nods, only just about seeing the lions painted on flags whipping through the air in the distance. 

"Are you alright?" 

It feels like it's out of nowhere, the question, but Callum flinches when he realises Ben is the one to ask.

Pulling Callum from his worried thoughts, Ben turns to him, concerned as he gazes over Callum's expression.

"You speak to me as if you trust me," Callum catches sight of a few deer as they continue down the trail, grazing on grass between the trees.

The buck stands on guard, ears flicking to all the sights and sounds.

"I shouldn't," admits Ben, "but I do."

"Why did you open the invitations?"

"I didn't want a shadow. I didn't open it to give everyone a chance, but in the end, it didn't turn out that way regardless. My father still stuck his nose in," Ben takes a deep breath. "You turning up and winning is either a sign of the fates working or the Gods have something more planned for us."

_ Us? _

_ What does he mean by shadow? _

Callum expected him to say  _ me —  _ but then again, they're in this together now. No one will be more loyal to Ben than Callum once he swears the oath.

"I am sorry, if that is not what you wanted to hear."

Callum looks across to see Ben's head held weakly between his shoulders, an air of guilt about him.

"No," says Callum, almost too quiet. Ben has to turn his head to hear him. "I would rather you be honest, as I will be honest with you."

Ben doesn't believe it, "The oath is simply words, there's no magic behind it. You could lie and I will never know."

"Where is the need to lie to you?" This is the first time Callum sounds sure about what he's saying, and Ben's heart does this odd flip. "You are here now, walking without defence having given all your cards to me. You trust me more than you ever should at this moment."

"I am kind," says Ben, simple.

"You're open," Callum shrugs as if that's simple too. "You hope."

How does he know Ben already?

"And what do I hope for, Knight?"

Callum doesn't know that yet, but he's sure of what he does know — that Ben is mostly mirrors, acting, a drop of his true reality and Callum's seen some of that during this trail.

"Maybe I will know in time," offers Callum, and the promise of that time sparks something in Ben's eyes.

"I await the day you tell me," Ben smiles, but it fades as quickly as it sparked. "Perhaps by then I'll have my reason to trust you, and not as blindly as I do now."

Callum nods, it's only fair.

Maybe he said those things to keep himself at a distance, to not allow himself to become comfortable with Ben around. When the time comes, and it may, he will have to step in front of Ben to protect him, and he can't have doubts and friendship and family to block that. 

He  _ must  _ have a clear head.

Falling for the Prince as his loyal Knight is not a good idea, and will  _ never  _ be a good idea.

But  _ gods _ does his heart yearn to be the focus of that charming smile as they greet the guards at the gate, to see the  _ real  _ smile behind the facade he uses so much.

Callum swallows the lump in his throat, posture held high as he turns his focus to the castle ahead, to his future.

He'll become a Knight in twelve hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update next saturday!


	3. a home away from home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna delete half of this because it feels like filler but it's also important for later, and i dont really want to rush character/relationship intros
> 
> i hope theres one thing thats enjoyable about this chapter!

_chapter 3. a home away from home_

Magnificent is a word saved for special things, at least in Callum's eyes.

There's not many moments in Callum's life where he's even thought of using it, to admire something so great that his tongue falls upon that word.

Maybe, just maybe, he might use it for this castle.

From a distance, it's mighty height is considered average for a hall of royalty, but closer, riding on horseback next to a Prince that lives within it and the promise of upcoming festivities — it feels _alive._

Crossing the bridge over turbulent seas, wide enough to fit 8 horses side by side, it feels like opening a new path to Callum's life, a promise of something bigger. Something to do with destiny.

The royal flag hangs upon the wooden arches overhead, arches adorned in ivy and red flowers, a colour that matches the cape of Ben as he rides a few steps in front. Guards walk behind them now, the air silent, a far away realm from the conversation they had moments ago.

Callum looks over the cape, the lion imagery that seems to adorn everything related to royalty here and the Kingdom itself. A group of lions make a pride, but the word _pride_ also means something else to humans, a rival to ego in some way.

Ben greets people with a nod as they pass traders with donkeys carrying village supplies and wares, incoming and outgoing produce to the castle itself.

Many stare at Callum, whisper between themselves, kids that point and make statements that they'll be like Callum one day.

He doesn't know if to smile or warn them, to not dream so big so soon and have it taken away by how wild and unforgiving life can be.

Ben must sense his uncertainty, as when Callum looks ahead once more, Ben is there, a mournful expression.

Torches are lit with a golden flame on every pillar, the shadows they create slicing over Ben and Callum every few steps, a wave crashing high. Callum feels the lingering moisture, the air that sings with a sirens song in the distance, ships that carry trade from far away.

Compared to the inn, this is another world.

As the hooves of their horses meet solid ground again, the castle is upon them, a mere minute away. Village houses are placed all the way up towards it, some in bundles and some tall, Callum spotting the moment new flags roll free from the castle balcony centered at the front, overlooking the village below.

With Ben accepting his father's wishes for a Knight, the castle is alive with preparation, staff and people from various villages with jobs trading guidance and helping to fulfil orders.

It seems panicked, but the smiles on faces trick Callum.

"It's been quiet around here for some time," adds Ben, making Callum look, only to glance away upon realising he's not free to do so here. _Especially_ here. There are guards behind them.

Callum decides to let Ben continue.

"You winning that challenge has spread quickly. You're good news to sad ears, a positive dawn, if you will," Ben gestures to the decorations, flowers and flags being put up in Callum's honour. "My father uses the phrase _a pride of lions,_ and as far as our knowledge goes, they rarely accept those outside of the group, right?"

Well, there's the lion thing Callum was thinking about earlier. 

"I would not know, Prince," Callum can't help but feel overwhelmed by all of this. 

"Well, when we do," a cheer erupts beside them as Callum travels past, praise sung by women with gifted voices as they carry buckets of food, laughing as they go about their day. "It's a joyous occasion. You are not born from these walls, and yet you will live inside them from tomorrow. It gives other people hope, to feel they belong."

Callum gets it now, and it seems to be a theme that follows him. What he doesn't expect is when more people see his arrival, more people start singing, clapping and dancing, painting an atmosphere that will be sung by bards and history itself.

Ben halts Athena, and Callum could curse him, because now he too, has to stop.

"Listen, for a moment," whispers Ben, turning to him.

Callum allows himself one glance, enough to remember the blue of his eyes before he turns to the gathering crowd. The guards grow increasingly unsettled.

They sing of praise and glory, the moon and the sun, the shadows of life all falling into one. 

"They're singing about you," adds Ben, and the softness of his voice could be mistaken for fondness.

 _"Oh, mighty mighty mighty moon, celebrate for our hearts are so in tune!"_ One of the lines goes, and the crowd are full of smiles, making Callum smile too when some of the words fall into place.

_"Oh! Mighty moon, mighty moon, you were once a wandering shadow. Oh! Mighty moon, mighty moon you have found your sun, you have found the one!"_

Ben is about to say something else when the song is broken by something thunderous.

 _"Silence!"_ Comes a voice of fire and hatred, stomping his way from the main doors, the crowd dispersing to make themselves look busy. "Back to work!"

At first glance, Callum doesn't like him. He wears the lion emblem and wears the best armour but he doesn't carry the same aura as Ben.

If anything, when he looks over to Ben, he seems afraid of the approaching man.

The man who shouted spots the new duo on their horses, looking down his nose at them with a scoff at the back of his throat. One of his eyes is white, blind to the world, and the scar down half his face equals why.

"Ah," starts Ben, and Callum has to lock his body to stop himself from looking over at Ben because the man is staring _right at him._ "My father's hellhound."

Callum puts two and two together, swallowing as the man starts to approach them, slow steps as if he has all the time in the world.

"Danny!" Ben has his arms wide, a sarcasm to his voice that's easily deducted. Danny, the man with one white eye doesn't have the heart to care. "Back so soon from your business trip? Or, should I say, an extended vacation of spending our fortunes on women and wine?"

Danny grunts as he stops between them, looking from Ben to Callum, judging the state of him. Hair tousled, the red stain on his shirt, mud on his knees. 

"I expected…. _more,"_ Danny mumbles, and Ben grits his teeth. 

Ben is Ben. He's not going to allow Danny to walk all over Callum already.

"I could say the same for our Knights," adds Ben, smile beaming with hidden hatred when Danny looks back to him. "Incredibly disappointing I will now have to settle for the man that sweeped the floor with them."

Danny bares his teeth, cursing Ben without saying it. Callum makes a mental note to avoid him at all cost.

However, if this is Ben's father's _Knight —_ is this how Callum will grow to be? Heartless? Scars of war? Broken senses and ill hisses on his tongue? 

His heart dangerously swells, feeling bruised, and the atmosphere feels thick and heavy and _he needs to get out of here._

Not even Ben's reply seems to jolt Danny from his stern, held expression of distaste.

"I will test him," Danny announces. "One day."

"Look forward to seeing you on your back," jokes Ben, feeling bile rise in his throat. It's worth it when Danny recoils and walks away, back into the castle.

Callum, free of hell's eyes, turns to Ben and watches him sigh, eyes closed.

"I was about to apologise to you again," Ben sounds awfully drained. "It seems to be the only thing I'm doing, right? Apologising for those you meet that I know."

The way he pushes a hand across his face, shoulders dropping, Callum wonders if Ben ever has a break. Not just from being a Prince, but from the mirrors, the masks, the fake smiles only to feel a blade at his back.

Callum picks up on those things, habits, gestures. It's how he's so good at fighting, anticipating moves before they happen.

"It's fine, Prince," Callum hopes his words provide some comfort even though that _shouldn't_ be a thing he's counting on.

He's here to make sure Ben keeps breathing, not to give a shoulder to cry on, or a hand to hold, or a chest to fall into, or _god forbid_ mend his heart.

That'd be ridiculous.

"Well," Ben seems to reset himself, rolling his shoulders, eyes seemingly brighter when he spots a group heading their way. "I'll never have to apologise for these lot."

Callum lingers on Ben for _just_ a moment longer until he stares where Ben is, a group of four people all waving with smiles to battle the grey clouds looming in the distant sea.

"Here he is!" says a man dressed in similar armour to Ben, although his cape is shorter and dyed a darker red. "The man of the hour!"

Ben dismounts his horse, allowing the other man in the group to take Athena's reins.

Two women stand beside each other. One woman has long, curly red locks that fall to her stomach, and the other lady has her hair curled, lifted with a shine that looks royal.

Callum realises seconds later that he should follow Ben, stumbling as he dismounts.

The man in the armour greets Ben with a handshake, pulling him in for a hug and _surely that's against some sort of code?_ He greets the two women with a nod, and the man holding Athena's reins tips his soft looking hat towards him.

"Knight," Ben gestures to Callum to come closer, the group standing in a circle. "These are the friends I was talking about on the way here."

"Alright?" One of them says, a confident looking lad who gives a little nod. Ben names him Keegan.

"Keegan is our Knight instructor. He'll teach you the ropes around here."

The two women share similar dresses, almost matching. Red details to match red hair, and golden details on the other dress to match the shine.

"Whitney, our clothier," the woman with red hair gives a small wave, "and Chantelle, our healer." The lady standing next to Whitney waves also, saying a pleasant _pleased to meet you_ with a little bow.

"And then we have Jay," Ben gestures to the man with Athena's reins. "Our crafter, blacksmith. Anything to do with that, he's your man."

Callum waves at all of them, shy in his smile, but they all greet him back with an equal tone. They're welcoming, peaceful yet full of character.

Perhaps it won't be too bad living here if such people are present, even if it _is_ in small numbers.

"And who might this Knight be?" Keegan asks, arms crossed as he sizes up Callum. It's more teasing than actually judging him.

Ben figures Callum should answer that, but as he turns to Callum, he's already staring at Ben.

The four friends glance at each other, not entirely sure what's going on.

"He hasn't granted me his name," starts Ben, choosing to respect his decision, "and I'll honour that."

Jay moves his hand up and down Athena's nose, "Maybe we could give him a name, like a _Knight_ name. That way we aren't attracting every other Knight when all we have to call you by is that."

Callum nods. It does make it a bit awkward, considering how many Knights are in and around this castle.

Ben doesn't have any ideas, and frankly, he doesn't know Callum enough to even pin something appropriate. 

_God,_ the only words that come into his head are _gorgeous, intriguing, handsome, please just look at me and don't keep dropping those eyes—_

 _"Apollo,"_ Chantelle says, finger on her lips. "That's what they were singing just, right? Being Ben's sun."

 _"Apollo?"_ Keegan blanks, "You want to name him after a God?"

Ben keeps quiet. He sure is handsome enough to be one, _maybe._

_No. Don't go there._

"Doesn't have to be" adds Jay, pointing to the sword Callum carries on his back. "I named that sword the same."

They all look to Callum, and Whitney suddenly has bright eyes. Chantelle knows that look.

"I think we have a winner," says Chantelle, and Whitney laughs, nudging her playfully. 

"Don't tell me," Ben starts, sounding irritated but there's a smile on his face. "You've thought of our ceremony outfits already?"

Whitney nods, clapping her hands together, about to run off, but then she steps back to point at Callum, "Will need to take some fittings, okay? Come find me after Ben gives you a tour!"

Chantelle shouts before she's pulled away, "And come see me about that wound beforehand!"

After that, Whitney takes Chantelle's hand, lifting up their dresses slightly with their free hands so they can run back to the castle, Whitney already talking about her ideas.

Ben shakes his head, but the admiration in his smile warms Callum's heart.

"I guess they decided for you," Keegan shrugs, laughing.

Callum nods, "It's fine. Apollo — Apollo is good."

"Kinda suits you," Jay gestures to — _all_ of him, "your height and everything." He sighs, heavily. "Did you really have to have the _tallest_ guy win?"

"Isn't that the idea, mate?" Ben eyes him, laughing when Jay rolls his eyes. "Big and scary. Ain't no one gonna' get me with _Apollo_ around."

Callum can feel his ears go red, and more than anything he hates his ears. The kids in the village used to pull them, and he falls into old habits. He moves his hand up to press one of them against his head, rubbing. Ben catches it for a mere moment before Callum stops.

"Scary? That's a smile too kind for this world," Jay points to Callum again, and Callum actually _smiles_ at the compliment.

Well, _is it_ a compliment? 

"Um, thank you, Jay," says Callum, Jay giving him a smile in return as he turns back to Ben.

"Ben, may I speak with you for a moment?" Jay asks, already walking over to place a hand on his shoulder, Athena following.

Ben nods, allowing Jay to lead him out of earshot.

"This sounds fishy," starts Jay, arms crossed again. "You don't know his name, or anything about him whatsoever?"

"No," it does sound awful now that Ben thinks about it. "But — you should've seen how he fights. He's a totally different man to the one standing there now."

Ben looks back to Callum, who seems to be talking with Keegan. That's good.

Jay seems to review him for a moment, one hand brushing the side of his face, unsure. A sound of confusion breaks through his lips with a sigh.

"Just be careful, alright? I know you didn't want your father's Knights but please, allowing a total stranger? There were loads of names on that challenger list even though he's the only one that stayed, we'll never know which one is his."

"His name isn't important to me, not yet," argues Ben, eyes firm towards Jay. "I've already given him plenty of chances to prove he's against us, but he's done nothing… nothing but—"

Ben stops. _Why can't he explain how he feels?_

_What's that word?_

Jay considers what he's said, nodding, knowing that Ben is as stubborn as all of them and if this is the way he wants to do it, then so be it.

They'll follow him.

"Just don't fall in love with him."

Ben scoffs, "No such thing as that."

\- - -

Introductions over, or at least most of them, Ben leads Callum inside the castle, walking past grand guards and opening grand doors.

The ceiling is so high that the chandeliers need ladders for people to reach them, some staff members of the castle applying golden ribbons, relighting forgotten candles.

Stone archways form strong and steady foundations, doors that lead into other parts of the castle and most importantly, the grand staircase.

Split into two, the stairs separate at the bottom but curl to meet at the top, a grand platform and a balcony centered there that overlooks the entire hall. Lion statues sit proud at either side.

Here, where they stand, is one of five main areas. The grand hall where they are now, leads straight into the garden, trees and a small pond that inhabit large fish of golden scales. It's surrounded by castle walls and windows and balconies, but it also has an archway exit, leading onto more garden and the outside world. On the left of the castle plan is the library, three stories of ancient books and history, art and literature. There's even a place on the second floor of all those books that has a fireplace, lounge chairs and a small bar. To the right, kitchens and work areas, workshops and staff rooms. At the back of the castle is the royal hall, the grand balcony nicknamed the _dragon's perch_ and the rooms in which the rich sleep.

Preparations continue all around the castle, and they'll continue for hours, days. Even if the Knight ceremony is a private, small audience affair in the royal hall, the ball will be much more. More _grand and spontaneous,_ says Ben.

He shows Callum every room he knows, every room that he'll probably need. Ben does tease about leaving most of it undiscovered as the building is so huge it's impossible to show him everything in the space of an hour or two. Granted, he also doesn't want to give too much away if he can't be trusted.

Callum makes a note of places he'd like to visit again if he ever stumbles upon a break from being glued to Ben's side. The library, for one, is a place of awe and beauty, a world away from every other room.

It's when they're arriving at the back of the castle that Callum meets another member of the family, or _members._

"You look terrified," adds Ben, catching a glimpse of his expression as he realises where they're heading.

"Is it weak to admit that I might be?" Callum stands so close that Ben honestly doesn't see how he's not meant to admire him. He's so — _something. He's not saying handsome again._

Ben turns away, giving him a gentle nudge. It seems to give Callum the knock to stop his hands shaking at least.

"Don't worry. If anyone has a problem with you, they'll have to deal with me. Remember, you protect me, I protect you," Ben gives him that beaming smile, looking ahead when Callum returns it. _Shit._ "Hopefully starting tomorrow we'll work together to make something better of this kingdom. You and me."

_You and me._

_Don't say it like that,_ Callum's heart begs, and then begs again even louder. _But he doesn't mean it like that, right? What am I even talking about?_

_No. Don't go there._

As they walk down the hall, unnerved by the quiet air and the lush, red carpet beneath their feet, Callum can't help but ask.

"Why did they call you the moon?"

"Hm?" Ben looks over his shoulder. Callum's eyes drop to the floor.

"The people, what they sang — why would you be the moon?" It seems a silly question, but from where Callum's standing, Ben is the one that attracts attention, burns bright, a smile to match.

Ben parts his lips to answer when barks of dogs echo through the hall.

Question forgotten, Ben turns back to where the noise is coming from, two cocker spaniel's running with their floppy ears towards them.

"Ah, the souls that follow no one," Ben kneels down to greet them, their tails swinging from side to side. Callum stands like a ghost beside him.

When Callum doesn't say anything, Ben turns to look up at him, nodding his head towards the dogs.

"They don't bite," he says, a grin soon curving his lips, "but I might."

Callum tries to brush that aside but it locks itself somewhere inside the back of his mind. Looking around, he checks that it's only staff and villagers before he kneels down to meet the two dogs, both of them eager to meet Callum and all the new smells.

As soon as they take interest, lapping up the attention, Callum finds himself smiling, scratching their sides and patting their bellies when they roll over.

"Sprocket and Coco," Ben points to each one respectively. "They're siblings."

Callum makes a silent _aaw_ that drags out when one of them, Coco, tilts her head in a way that would melt any heart.

"They're adorable," Callum glances to Ben, sees the smile on his face and drags his eyes away again.

"They are my mothers," Ben replies, standing back up, Callum following. "Listen to no one but her."

In all his years of living in this Kingdom, he's never really heard of Ben's mother, nor has she been mentioned at any royal event. It makes him wonder if there's more to it.

Eventually, the dogs become bored and head through the doors they came through, leaving Ben and Callum alone again.

"Right," Ben clears his throat. "Shall I show you to your quarters?" 

Callum nods, trying to keep the punch he just felt of reality contained because oh, yeah, he's living in _this_ part of the castle for the purpose of being near Ben at all times.

What he doesn't expect, is _how close he actually is to him._

"We're neighbours," says Ben as they make their way up another staircase, split similar to the one in the grand hall at the entrance. "For your convenience and mine because you won't just be my Knight, you'll be my advisor, my right hand, and hopefully my friend in time."

"Why do you say _hopefully?"_ Callum keeps his voice down so that the silent, waiting guards that stand at doors don't hear his curiosity.

"Well, you may hate me," shrugs Ben, and he says it so easy that Callum worries about that detail. "Can't guarantee what might happen, I just hope that you will."

"Okay," replies Callum, suddenly worried that one day that might come true, although it seems impossible to hate Ben.

Ben said _in time,_ which could be said for anything, but it's true in that it's early days and in a few weeks they could either be closer than they are or further apart. It's up to them.

"Here we are," Ben knocks on the door as they arrive. "Your home away from home."

 _Home away from home?_ Surely this _is_ Callum's home now? 

Perhaps Ben is merely acknowledging the fact that even though Callum lives here now, it may not be home to him. Not yet.

_He really shouldn't be thinking too deeply about this._

"And I'm—" Ben takes a few steps across the hall, two strides to knock on his own door. "Right here."

Oh. They're _really close._ Like _they-could-bump-into-each-other-during-the-night_ close. 

"Neighbours," repeats Callum, smiling because he's not sure what else to do.

"I believe Chantelle is in here waiting for you," Ben walks those two steps back to Callum's door, entering after two knocks and as promised, Chantelle is there. "Sorry about that. Got caught up on the tour."

Chantelle smiles as they both walk in, lingering on Callum as he takes in the room.

_Surely this isn't all his?_

The room is _big,_ not _too_ big, more cozy with all the space and furniture. He even has a fireplace, crackling with a fresh fire and fresh wood and framed by a mantel that has a few books stacked on top. There's a dresser not far from his bed, a bed that fits three people with luxurious sheets and a high canopy where even more rich fabric falls to the floor, transparent. 

Big doors open up to a balcony, as the floor Ben and Callum's rooms are built on is at the very peak of the castle, the corridor leading past their rooms to the skylight. Ben will have to take him there another day unless he explores it himself.

"Take good care of our Apollo, Chantelle," Ben sends a wink her way, Callum feeling out of place as he stands there in the middle of the room, still not quite believing the world around him.

Chantelle laughs, "Yes, Ben. He'll be back with you in no time."

And at that, the door closes. Ben is off to do whatever he needs to do while Chantelle tends to Callum.

Callum walks over to Chantelle, looking at all the equipment she's prepared to clean and cover Callum's wounds from the fight.

"How are you feeling?" Chantelle asks, patting the seat next to her for Callum to take a seat.

As soon as he does, his body relaxes, taking a deep breath.

Chantelle turns to face him, already beginning to remove the makeshift bandage with care. She can see that he's hesitating to say something.

"I won't tell Ben. Just between you and me, yeah?"

Callum nods, looking to his shoulder as the ripped shirt falls from his wound. Thank the heavens it didn't slice any deeper or he would've been in trouble.

"Uh, overwhelmed? A little nervous," Callum flinches when Chantelle starts to apply a wet cloth, mumbling a small apology before starting again. "I'm not sure what to make of it all."

"You're in good hands with Ben," replies Chantelle, smiling when they meet eyes. "He's a good one."

 _As people keep saying._ He'll be the judge of that, considering his outburst earlier.

"Oh, I have to inform you as well," Chantelle pauses to concentrate on taking another clean cloth before speaking again, wiping the dirt from around his wound. "I'll be your advisor, as in, like Henry is Ben's advisor. So, anything you need help with or if you get lost just summon for me and I'll be there, okay?"

Callum nods, smiling as she does, "Thank you."

"It's no problem at all. Even though others might not want to make you feel welcome, the few of us that actually care about this Kingdom will do our best to make you feel at home," Chantelle picks up some more cloth, this time without the moisture. "Can you lift your arm a little for me, please?"

Following her request, Callum does so, still smiling as her words linger in his thoughts. At least there's a few people here that _want_ him here, and even if they necessarily don't want him here, they're still respectful in welcoming him.

"There we go," she says after a minute, making sure the knot isn't too tight but enough to keep dirt out. "Right, I've cleaned around it so you won't need to touch it again when you bathe, okay? I'll put some more fresh cloth on tomorrow before your ceremony."

Callum turns to look at the wound, now covered in a white bandage, the surrounding area clean of the dirt he gained after ripping his sleeve.

"Thank you, Chantelle," says Callum, nodding towards her when she stands up.

"Glad to help, Apollo," she laughs at the nickname, and Callum drops his head to hide his smile. "Your bathe room is through there," Chantelle points to a door at the back of the room, "I have to go to Whitney and help out with the ceremony preparation. You come and see us when you're done, alright? Down the stairs, back to the main hall and then the section of the castle on your left."

Callum thinks he'll remember that, "Yes, thank you. I'll be as quick as I can."

Chantelle gives him a thumbs up, gathering her equipment afterwards, giving another goodbye when she's at the door.

When it closes behind her, Callum is left alone in the mammoth room, in awe of the high ceiling and hanging candle fixtures. 

This is his life now, elevated into riches and luxury and yet all he really wants to do right now?

Sleep.

\- - -

After getting to grips with the bathe room and waiting for warm water from the fireplace, he finds fresh attire folded onto his bed, a little tag that says _from Whitney_ in cursive.

Opening it out in front of him, the clothing is casual and formal, just enough for him to keep warm in the large, open halls until he acquires his new armour from Jay. That might take a day or two depending on how focused he is on the job.

Once dressed in the clean, black clothes given to him, he leaves his room with the Prince's sword once again resting against his back, almost bumping into the guards that stand to protect his door.

They give him a funny look as he walks by them, Callum choosing to ignore it as he hovers around Ben's door. 

Is he in there? Does he ask for proper directions for where he needs to go?

 _No._ He won't bother him. Callum needs to get off on the right foot with him or it'll make his life a misery. Hell, the worst outcome might be getting kicked out altogether.

Scratching at his neck, Callum moves on, the long sleeved shirt he wears feels soft against his skin, string ties keeping it together at the collar so it doesn't seem so loose on his shoulders. 

A few of the castle staff wave as he walks by, Callum returning the greeting with a small smile that's almost too shy. Surely he should walk confident, an air of strength, but it doesn't come so easy to Callum when he doesn't need to be.

He does manage to find Whitney and Chantelle, a room big enough for all of her equipment and fabrics and mannequins. Callum can already see them hard at work, drawing designs and pinning fabrics to the mannequin only to step back and judge it.

They're both happy to see him, and two hours later, he's set free from measuring tapes and pins to go see Ben.

Henry asked for him, saying that Ben has _summoned him_ and it makes him feel all — jelly. That's the only way to describe it.

Walking back up the stairs, there are even more guards, a telltale sign that Ben is back in his room. Passing them one by one feels like a gauntlet, all of them staring, and one of them even has the guts to place his sword in front of the door so Callum can't knock.

They meet eyes, and Callum isn't fond of how disgusted he looks, seeing how long he can make Callum stand there and bend under his will.

Callum fought for a place here and won, and it's not up to lousy door guards to take that right from him. He'd make a scene and prove how much he deserves to be here, but he's not looking to fight when he's done enough of that for a week in the span of a day.

Ben needs him for something, so he'll be there. That's the promise he needs to make as a Knight.

Callum knocks the door away from the sword, the guard grunting when he takes it back, keeping it by his side.

There's no reply from the other side of the door, and after a second knock, still nothing. Maybe this is why the guard stopped him from going in — but then why would he summon him?

Callum tries again, this time a little louder, hoping he doesn't come off as rude.

_"You may enter."_

_There he is._

Callum opens the door slowly, one hand on the rim as his eyes take in the room. He promptly ignores the guard who spits where he once stood, closing the door behind him.

It's similar to Callum's but there's a sense of home here. Mostly, it feels lived in, a messy bedroom with clothes in an organised mess on his dresser and books at the foot of his bed.

The fireplace crackles, a warm, red fire that flickers yellow every now and then.

Callum spots Ben seconds later, sitting at his desk and looking over papers. There's more books placed on top of each other, a quill sat in an ink pot and scrolls kept together with wax pushed to one side.

He sighs, turning, a face full of worry until he sees Callum and Ben's face changes, becoming bright as he stands up from his chair, eyes falling down Callum's body to take in his new clothes.

"Feeling better?" asks Ben, hands on his hips as he does a double take. 

God, he looks fine.

"Feeling well, Sir," nods Callum, hands behind his back, shoulders lifted in that posture that demands respect.

"Good, good," Ben turns back to his desk, almost too quiet for a period of time, leaving Callum clueless as to what he's doing here.

"Sir?"

"Hm?"

"You said you needed me for something? Henry asked for me to come here after speaking with Whitney?" Callum looks to the fireplace, finding comfort in the warm light it produces. 

It's almost dusk, and the grey clouds outside do little to illuminate the now navy room, the only warmth coming from the fire as the light dances across Ben.

"Oh! Yes, sorry," Ben shakes his head, getting himself to concentrate again. "The letter to your family, I thought it might be better if you write it yourself."

Ben starts moving stray pieces of paper away from the middle of the desk, stacking some of them on a pile and others becoming shoved into the corner to sort out later.

Callum is thrown. _He remembered._

He honestly thought Ben had already told Henry, but here he is, making room on his desk and gathering new paper so Callum can write his own letter back to his family.

Ben's movements slow down, scratching at his cheek with a finger when he realises he might be overstepping.

"You can — you can write, can't you? Sorry, I shouldn't have presumed such—"

"I can, Sir," he smiles, only to realise he just interrupted the _Prince_ of all people. "Sorry—"

Ben laughs, "It's quite alright." He dips his head, smiling because _wow,_ they seem to be doing okay with this already despite the shy smiles. "Here you go, then."

Stepping back to offer his seat, Callum hesitates before walking over to take a seat at Ben's desk.

While Callum thinks about what he's going to write, Ben stands to the side, allowing a small pot of wax to sit over a candle flame, ready to seal it when Callum's finished.

"Be nice about me, won't you?" jokes Ben, causing Callum to huff as he picks up the quill. "I'm sorry that this is all I can do for you."

"Please don't apologise. I knew about this going in that I may not see them," Callum looks up to Ben, Ben staring down at him from where he stands. He parts his lips, and Callum glances at them for mere seconds before looking back to the letter. "Just being able to do this settles my heart, so thank you."

_That's a lie._

His heart isn't settled, at all. If anything, his heart goes wild knowing Ben is standing right next to him.

Ben's lips quirk into a smile, still looking at Callum as he starts writing, the scratch of the quill against paper becoming mixed with the crackle of the fire.

Deciding to give him some space, Ben reluctantly moves away to stand near the fire, arms behind his back, thumb playing with the silver ring that sits on one of his fingers.

"Is your room alright?" asks Ben, picking up a book purely to browse as he waits. Callum finishes writing the sentence he's on before replying.

"It's incredible," Callum sounds amazed by it still. "Don't know what to do with all that space."

"Sleep anywhere," chuckles Ben, turning pages in the book as he holds it. "And how were Whitney and Chantelle? They didn't talk too many secrets about me, did they?"

Callum laughs at his first reply, only to shake his head at the second. "They're lovely."

"They're in love," replies Ben, closing the book with a small thud. "The lucky ones that have somehow found it."

Callum's not sure if he means in _love_ love or simply friends. Either way, he smiles, and it's a smile that Ben captures when he looks back over his shoulder.

He continues standing by the fire as Callum continues to write, listening to how the scratching of the quill sometimes stops, only to start again seconds later. There seems to be a lot of thought going into it.

Maybe he thinks it'll be the only one. Ben has to fix that.

"You may keep writing to them, by the way," Ben twists his body so he can see Callum again. "I don't intend for this to be the last."

Callum pauses, setting the quill back into the pot as he takes in Ben.

There's no cape on his shoulders anymore, no armour, no emblem, simply wearing loose fabric and his hair a little messy from his own hands. The laurel crown is sat on top of the books near Callum, and it has this almost supernatural glow in front of the fire.

As Ben walks away from the fire, his shirt hangs loosely on his shoulders, seemingly exhausted from the events of today. Callum could see how tired he was when he walked in, only smiling when he saw it was Callum that had arrived.

"That's kind of you," says Callum, sitting back to take the quill again, fresh with ink. "But only if it's not too much trouble. I don't want someone running to the south village every day just to deliver my letter."

"It's okay, I promise," Ben speaks behind him, and Callum would turn to see what he's doing but it feels rude. So, he continues writing, still listening to Ben. "Many of our staff live in the villages regardless, but I'll send someone I trust to deliver you letters, just in case someone catches on. I don't want that choice of speaking to your family taken from you."

Ben sounds distant when he speaks about it, and Callum wants to ask why, but then he's by his side again, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeve.

"Wow. Have a lot to say, don't we?" 

Callum panics, "Oh, sorry."

"Hey," Ben settles him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The contact soothes Callum, unties knots held in his shoulders. "It's fine. Say what you want, I'm just teasing you."

Callum looks back to the two pages he's written, and yeah, it's _a lot_ of words and maybe he's right. Even as Ben leaves his side again, Callum feels as if he should finish up and give Ben some time alone. He's already borrowed enough of that time to write this letter, even if it _is_ out of the good of Ben's own heart.

Ben walks to the door, opens it and Callum catches the tone he uses, demanding with little patience, asking for Henry.

A guard nods and walks off, Ben closing the door to his room again.

"I wanted to say something to you before tomorrow," Ben starts, walking back towards Callum, just as he finishes signing the letter. "Are you sure about this?"

"What?"

"You don't have to do this, to swear an oath to me," Ben stops at his desk, watching as Callum folds up the letter. "I want to give you that chance to walk away if you want to."

Ben hopes that he doesn't, though. He's torn between being selfish and being careful, wanting to give Callum that chance, but also to keep Callum and hope that he's the kind soul Ben believes and needs him to be.

"I— I don't know what to say, Sir," Callum holds the letter so faint that it might fall back to the wood, and Ben at that very moment reaches out his hand for it.

"Don't say anything," replies Ben, taking another piece of paper to write down an address. It's a much smaller piece of paper, and Callum manages to read the _please reply to this address only_ before Ben folds it in half and tucks it into Callum's letter. "Make your decision tonight. It's up to you to wear that armour tomorrow, and if you don't turn up, then know that I won't see you any differently."

Well, he won't see him at all, really. Somehow that thought has the power to splinter Ben's heart more than he'd like it to.

Callum chooses not to reply verbally, only nodding as Ben leans over him, taking the little clay pot of melted wax and pouring it where the letter folds. As it pools, Ben slowly tips the pot back, allowing for no drips as he places it down by the candle again.

He picks up a small, wooden handle, carved at the end where it's flat in a circle. Ben presses down on the cooling wax, letting it sit for a few seconds before slowly pulling back.

The wax is now carved with the Kingdom's lion emblem, the letter sealed and ready.

Callum is still confused.

"Why… why would you give me that option? Why not just make me stay?" asks Callum, meeting Ben's eyes as his head turns, watching the moment Ben swallows.

"If you were happy there, I don't want to take that away from you just to fake it here," Ben turns over the letter, allowing Callum to write the address when he manages to take his eyes away. It feels as if Ben can breathe again when he does. "I know it's rough out there, and I want to change that, I really do."

Callum gives back the letter after writing the name of the inn.

"Don't you do the same?" Callum plays with the feather, smoothing it out with his thumb before realising he might be overstepping. "Sorry. I shouldn't be talking to you like this."

Callum pushes the chair back, placing the quill back as he stands, about to sidestep Ben, but he's stopped.

Ben places a hand against his chest, warm, solid. Time stops between them, caught in this loop where Ben looks at his hand on Callum's chest, and Callum hoping he doesn't feel how fast his heart is beating.

He pulls away when Callum looks down, Ben turning his head to face the desk in front of them, sighing as he pinches his nose.

"No, it's alright. Speak to me how any person would to another person. There's no need for formal when it's just us," Ben picks up the letter, holding it between his two fingers. "But, what did you mean, exactly?"

Callum swallows as Ben brings the subject back, nervous as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

"On the way here, you talked about pretending to be your father's puppet," Callum doesn't know what to do with his hands, one by his side and the other moving to scratch at his temple. "Do you — do you do that all the time? With everyone?"

Ben parts his lips to speak, but a loud knock jolts them both from the stare they've managed to lock themselves in.

It's Henry, poking his head through the door, brow raised when he notices how close they're standing.

"Sir?" 

"Henry," Ben leaves Callum's side, and the tight squeeze his lungs had from being so close to him finally loosens.

Henry closes the door as Ben reaches him. Callum can't hear what Ben chooses to say.

"Please get Bobby to deliver this. No one else," Ben hands over the sealed letter, Henry nodding as he takes it, slipping it into his pocket on the inside of his waistcoat. "Ask him to deliver it as first light, and return the next day at the same time to pick up a reply."

Henry nods, "As you wish, Sir. Have a pleasant evening," and then he peers over Ben's shoulder to wave. "And a good night to you too, Sir Apollo."

Oh. Gossip really does spread quickly.

Callum nods, whispering a small _thank you_ that he doesn't think manages to even reach Henry as he leaves the room.

Ben and Callum are alone once more.

"Not with you," says Ben after the silence lingers too long, and Callum flicks his eyes towards him as he turns around. "What you said."

"I still don't understand," Callum brings his hands together, looking down at them, thumbs pressed together. "I am still but a stranger to you. Why be honest with me?"

Ben bites his bottom lip, taking a slow step forward, reaching for something that Callum doesn't see.

When Ben comes to stand in front, Callum doesn't dare raise his gaze, at least not until Ben speaks again.

"Hold this," Ben offers his hand out, and when Callum looks, his heart stops.

A small blade, golden handle, a lion engraved into the blade.

"Why?"

"Take it," Ben pushes his hand closer, and Callum follows the order, holding it with little strength until he finally grips it.

Ben takes Callum's wrist, lifting his hand and that blade to his throat. His nerves turn cold when he feels the iron cold against the skin of his apple, their eyes meeting in this strange, silent dance.

Callum doesn't move his hand. He's afraid to.

_What if someone walks in?_

The fire beside them crackles like it's laughing, painting half of Ben's face in this warm red that Callum's eyes are drawn to. There's freckles there, on top of his cheek, small but _there_ and the thought of being this close makes Callum's legs grow cold.

"If I didn't have a reason to trust you, you'd take this opportunity." Ben keeps his eyes on Callum's, his eyes so rich in blue he truly thinks Apollo matches him. As blue as the sky where the sun sits high.

Callum's fingers shift on the handle, watching as Ben breathes in. He shakes his head slowly, not quite believing what's happening, the scene that's playing out.

"No," Callum whispers. "They'd know it was me."

"And?"

"I'd find another way to get close," Callum's thumb moves now, tickling against the surface of Ben's throat.

Ben shakes his head, smiling. His lips part to whisper but he stops, watching as Callum's eyes fall to them.

"Not many get this close," Ben replies, stepping back when the words sink in, letting go of Callum's wrist and his skin _burns_ from the contact.

It's not a painful burn, but he can't place or name what it actually feels like.

Callum sets the blade onto the desk, hand shaking, allowing his fingers to graze the handle before returning to rest at his side.

"Yes, I shouldn't trust you, but I choose to," Ben starts again. "Like we said on our ride here, there's no point lying if you do turn up tomorrow. We're bound either way, and if I was wrong, then that will be what the world had planned for me after all."

"Just like that?" Callum shrugs, arms wide. "You wouldn't fight for something?"

"Of course I would, but if it doesn't happen, doesn't work, then that isn't up to me, is it? I would rather choose to trust you and end up being wrong then never knowing at all."

Some of it makes sense, some of it doesn't. Maybe Ben's spent too long fighting and never finding anything at the end.

"Sometimes it doesn't hurt to try," Ben glances at him, to where he knows the wound is on Callum's arm. "And sometimes it does."

Callum doesn't know what to say, caught between his own thoughts and what he truly wants to say. He wants to _know_ Ben, to find out why he seems to throw himself into these things, fully aware that they could go wrong.

How many times has he been hurt to become so _numb_ to it? To become reckless?

Shuffling on the spot, Callum scrunches up his shirt at the bottom with his hand, looking to the floor because there isn't much to say.

"I — thank you, for allowing me to write to them," Callum looks up hoping Ben will look back, but he's focused on the fire, solemn expression. "I'll repay you someday."

Ben says nothing, and with that, Callum starts making his way to the door, trying not to look Ben's way knowing he might turn around.

It's when he reaches the door that Ben finally speaks.

"You owe me nothing, Apollo," says Ben, turning his head slightly towards Callum, but not all the way. "You have no idea."

_No idea how much you've saved me already._

Callum feels frozen, thawed by the confusion. He hasn't done anything to owe such words, but then again, Ben always seems distant in moments like this when it's just them — two humans, two men, two souls and their mortality.

"Goodnight, Ben," says Callum, and he's about to leave again when Ben replies.

"I forgot to say," and this time, he actually looks at Callum from where his head is. "If you do turn up tomorrow, and you swear the oath — I'd like you to stand on my left side. Is that alright?"

Once again, the questions pile up.

"May I ask why?"

Ben grits his teeth. Callum can see it from the way his jaw clenches, the shadow forming there from the fire.

"It's tradition," says Ben on a breath, almost as if he needed to quickly say something to fill the gap. "Knights on the left side."

"Oh," Callum didn't know that, but then again, he hasn't seen many Knights at this level in action. "I'll see you tomorrow, Prince."

Ben nods, "Goodnight to you, too."

Callum smiles softly as he leaves, allowing Ben to breathe out where he hears the door creak shut. 

Ben tips his head back, tongue to his cheek inside his mouth before shaking his head. He brings his hands up to brush his face, his vision going blurry from the pressure before he blinks his eyes open again, hands at his temples.

_Fuck._

_See you tomorrow._

His stomach lifts, flips, and then settles when he realises Callum's already told him his answer.

Callum will be his Knight tomorrow, his _Apollo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no more world building after this chapter. it's all up from here (hopefully)


	4. ceremomy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant believe this was done and i just never uploaded it. im soooo sorry 😭 got distracted by writing my other fics?

Callum hasn't slept much.

Ben is literally steps away from him between walls, and he can hear the castle slowly wake up as the sun rises. 

He's fallen asleep for three hours, maybe four, but he honestly can't count considering most of the night he's been tossing and turning.

There's been a few times where he's accidently pushed on his wound, hissing through his teeth and turning back over. That in itself keeps him awake, but it's mostly just the worry of what this new day brings.

He's becoming a Knight, but not just  _ any  _ Knight.

Callum will be Ben's shield, his other half, his companion into however many years life will grant them. There's something about becoming Ben's Knight of all people that feels grand, an impeccable weight on his chest that gnaws to the bone. He'll be there to meet the end of a sword so Ben won't have to, his second life so to speak.

He barely knows him and in a few hours, he'll swear to protect Ben with every breath he takes.

Might as well give himself no name at all, nevermind Apollo, considering he'll be forever in Ben's shadow.

It still bothers him. Why did those people sing about Ben being the moon? Why not Callum?

_ "Apollo?"  _ A voice picks up through the door, followed by two knocks.  _ "It's Whitney!" _

Callum lifts his head from the pillow, taking a second as he thinks through what he's actually meant to say.

"Uh," Callum pushes himself up, shouting.  _ "Just a second!" _

_ "Okay!" _

Callum jumps out of bed, grabbing one of the silk gowns on the side, covering his torso and hugging it as he makes his way towards the door.

When he opens it, Whitney is standing there with a big smile on her face. Callum replies with his own, opening the door a bit more so she can step inside.

"Hey, good morning," says Callum, eyes falling on the clothes she's carrying. Ah, it must be his clothing for the ceremony today.

"Morning to you too! You excited?" Whitney makes sure she isn't dragging the clothes along the floor as she walks into Callum's room. 

Callum is about to reply, but the door opposite his room opens.

Ben is standing there, talking to Henry, muffled conversation that stops when Ben notices Callum looking.

He's wearing similar clothes to last night, nothing too fancy yet. Ben must be getting ready.

Ben offers a small smile, nothing more, before turning away, speaking to Henry once more as he makes his way down the hall.

Wait, is Ben meant to have seen him? Is it like marriage where seeing him beforehand is bad luck?

Callum shakes his head, closing the door again after her.

"Nervous, more than anything," supplies Callum, turning around to meet her in the middle of the room. "I'll be seeing the King for the first time today and I know he's not a fan of me."

Whitney clicks her tongue. "Just ignore him. Grumpy, bald headed man!" 

"Uh," Callum chuckles quietly. "Should you be talking about him like that?"

"You should hear what Ben speaks about him sometimes," Whitney talks as she places down the pile of clothing, quickly making Callum's bed by throwing the duvet back into place. "You'd forget they're related sometimes."

_ Wait — Ben? _

"The Prince talks like that?"

"Oh, almost always when his back is turned," Whitney starts to unfold the clothing over the surface of the bed, showing off each piece to Callum as he walks over. "The King has caused a lot of suffering for Ben, still does. We'll all be much happier when Ben sits on that throne."

Whitney steps back, happy with her work as she places both hands on her hips, turning to see Callum and his soft expression at what's before him.

"Well, what do we think?"

Callum is speechless. It's unique, royal and entirely  _ his. _

\- - -

Bobby gives a little wave to Ben as he walks into the castle. Ben's checking with some staff about flower arrangements for the ceremony today. He sends them away when Bobby finally reaches his side.

"Letter was delivered," he says, a cheery smile that would clear any cloud cover.

"Thank you, Bobby," Ben ruffles his hair, smiling back. "Please let me know how tomorrow goes, too."

"Oh, I will, Ben!" Some of the staff look up at the improper way to address the Prince, and Ben simply clicks his fingers and tells them to move on. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Ben nudges his bicep with his elbow. "Go get yourself a pastry before Jay finds out they're on the menu today. Your father will not approve but with my permission he has no choice."

Bobby laughs, stepping one foot forward when he stops, turning to Ben.

"Thank you, for trusting me." 

Ben wants to hug him.

"Of course." He nods instead, watching as he half skips, half walks his way to the kitchen.

Ben's left to his own mind for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before Henry appears by his side once more.

"Chantelle has delivered your clothing for the ceremony, Sir," Henry gives him a smile. "Rather dashing looking. I'm sure you'll turn every head."

Scoffing, Ben rolls his eyes. "That's what I'm worried about." Either way, Ben starts walking with Henry back up to his quarters, only catching a glimpse of Chantelle as she walks from Ben's room to Callum's, those few little steps.

She offers a small wave, Ben smiling, eyes on Callum's door even as he arrives at his own door.

Ben catches a glimpse of him through the gap. The curve of his shoulders, the bulk of his back and how his skin morphs tight and folds to place his shirt on.

_ Shit. _

"Sir?" 

Ben clears his throat, breaking his eyes away as he walks into his own room, thanking Henry for closing the door behind them.

\- - -

_ THE CEREMONY _

Ben feels more nervous than he's ever been in his life. Everyone turns to him and looks with expectation, the first step onto that bigger role and bigger life.

Henry tries to keep him settled, small nods given every time Ben's eyes fall on him as he looks around the room. This is another type of hell, waiting and waiting for those doors to open, to hear Callum's answer in a physical way.

He keeps his hands behind his back, thumbs brushing together, nails picking at skin. Ben wants to bite his fingernails but that would be frowned upon, breaking him out of his stance in front of all these people.

Phil's royal Knights all stand either side of the walkway, hands on the hilt of their swords, eyes down knowing that they're still beneath everyone else, beneath Callum when he walks down that aisle. They were bested by blood not from these walls and their faces show that, some frowning, some void of any expression at all.

Ben takes a deep breath as the first click sounds behind that door, the torches and candles lit across the room burning golden as white and red flower petals decorate the carpet that leads the way to Ben at the steps of the throne.

Phil sits on that throne, slouching, twirling a coin between his fingers and looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here.

Guards walk through, spears at their sides, thudding the ends of them against the stone and marble floor as the darkness of the revealed hallway welcomes in the light from the grand hall.

Ben holds his breath.

Callum slowly steps out of that darkness, hair swept to the side, his chest piece painted with the lion sigil of the Kingdom. He walks carrying a sword in his hands, Ben's sword, laying across Callum's palms, walking across petals and red carpet as the music rises around them in symphony.

Ben wants to step forward, to meet him halfway and soak in the moment because Callum walks so much taller than anyone else, walks with more strength than anyone else.

His shoulder pads curl to the sides, carved into wings, and his cape, dyed from blue to white falls from his shoulder, cut diagonally at the backs of his knees. Everything is perfectly fitted, perfectly him.

_ Callum's perfect. _

Henry watches from the side, glancing from Ben to Callum and then back to Ben, and the expression he sees makes Henry hopeful, hopeful that the boy he's seen grow up will finally be comfortable in his own halls.

Chantelle follows beside Callum, a smile on her face when Ben finally manages to take his eyes away from Callum, smiling back when she winks.

Whitney knew what she was doing when she made Callum's royal outfit, the blues and silver, white and burgundy detailing. Callum looks fit to rule, not just someone's Knight. The colours of his clothes are the complete opposite to the striking of red and gold of the usual Kingdom colours, a silent announcement that Ben and Callum will be a new light, a new warmth.

When Callum reaches the bottom of the 6 steps, he finally looks up, meeting Ben's eyes and his heart drops to his stomach.

Ben matches him, blues and gentle burgundy. His cape meets the ground but not too far, silver laurel sitting between the curls of his hair and the silk that falls from his elbows. Callum swallows when Ben takes a step down, still standing taller than Callum.

He shouldn't, but Ben mouths  _ good to see you  _ and it takes Callum a moment to smile, nodding.

Callum drops to one knee, slowly, allowing the metal of his knee pads to  _ thud  _ against the flooring, raising his arms to present Ben with his sword, returning it at last.

Phil grunts. He's not meant to even have it.

Ignoring his father behind him, Ben takes his sword back by the handle, smiling as he inspects the blade, noticing no scratches nor fading.

Keeping it held by his side, Ben's face becomes more serious, looking beside him to a woman dressed in a long, white dress, flowers in her hair as she comes to stand beside Callum, an aged book held open in her hands.

Callum can't take his eyes away from Ben, and Ben can't neither when he turns back to him.

This is it.

Callum stays on one knee, one hand curling into a fist as he rests it on his knee, the other against the floor. His cape looks like fading moonlight over his back.

Iqra, the woman in the dress, gives Ben a nod as she parts her lips.

"We are gathered here today to witness the oath shared between Prince and Knight," and the silence of the music makes Callum more nervous, taking a deep breath. "A tradition carried down through generations, an unbreakable bond offering eternal life to our royal, and an honour to those that fight by their side."

Ben lifts the sword, the tip of the blade hovering under Callum's chin.

"Knight Apollo, you have braved through and conquered the trial, and now you kneel at the feet of the Prince you will now swear a life oath to, to protect and aid him with every new dawn."

Ben taps his chin with the blade, bringing Callum's eyes up to him again. Callum's not sure what Ben's expression is meant to be, somewhere between bold and admiration.

"Prince Ben, you stand before the soul that will pledge their life to you, through sword and shield, through day and night, through war and peace — do you wish for Knight Apollo to stand by your side through thick and thin?"

He doesn't reply straight away, and Callum starts to show the worry on his face, the way his eyes widen as if he's expecting Ben to say no at any second.

"I do," says Ben.

Callum breathes again, fighting against the need to smile as Ben doesn't, still holding the sword to his chin but then it moves, pointed towards his head.

"Knight Apollo," Iqra starts again, "Will you offer guidance and thoughts to Prince Ben in a time of need? When it is asked of you?"

Callum parts his lips, watching Ben's eyes fall over his face before answering.

"Yes."

Ben moves the blade to sit against his shoulder.

"Knight Apollo, will you offer strength and support to Prince Ben in battle, in training and daily life? When it is asked of you?"

"Yes."

Ben lingers the sword there, Iqra waiting as Ben takes his time moving it towards his heart. Ben hates this part, dreads it.

He pushes the blade so it clinks against the metal, pushing hard so that he has to feel Callum pushing back to keep it there.

"Knight Apollo," and  _ God,  _ here it comes. "Do you offer your heart and soul to stand by Ben's life until you can no longer stand between the earth and sky? Do you promise to devote your life to him, to the kingdom and the people that live within it?"

Callum doesn't know why it's so easy to say, so easy to speak the words  _ I do  _ so they echo off the walls but he does it, and Ben pulls the sword away, giving Callum a chance to breathe again.

Iqra closes the book, coming to stand between them at the side.

"You may stand," she says, and Callum does so, slowly, cape moving behind him. "Prince Ben?"

Ben nods, eyes on Callum, smiling to himself as Callum stands proud, shoulders wide a few steps below him.

"Well, Knight Apollo," says Ben, a warm tone to his voice. "You are now a royal Knight of this kingdom, the wings at my back, the light in any dark."

Ben starts to walk down the steps, eyes never leaving each other, even as Ben lifts the handle of his sword to hold it between their chests.

"This now belongs to you, Knight," Ben feels his knuckles brush Callum's as he takes it, and for the first time, their hands wrap around each other against the handle of the blade.

"Thank you, Prince Ben," says Callum, voice quiet, just for them, and Ben smiles at hearing his name fall from Callum's lips.

As Callum takes the sword, Ben is quick to catch Callum's pinky with his own, tugging so that his hand can grip and hold Callum's. His thumb brushes over those knuckles, some rough from fighting, his hands considerably bigger and it makes Ben's brain tumble and roll.

Ben shouldn't do this, it's not part of the ceremony, but he brings Callum's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it as gasps rise around them. To be kissed by a Prince in these lands is worth more than any riches.

Callum's heart drums against his ribs, eyes unable to move from where Ben kisses him, Ben's eyes closed as if nothing else matters other than this moment.

As Ben pulls back, his breath rolls over Callum's hand, cold against the patch where he just kissed.

His eyes lift to Callum's eyes again, smirking as Callum's linger on his own hand.

"I'm glad you're here," says Ben, finally allowing Callum's hand to rest by his side again, watching as his other hand grips the sword tighter out of the corner of his eye.

"That means… I don't know the word, Prince." Callum's stunned, temporarily caught between acting like a Knight and acting like a man who has finally been struck with the idea of his first love.

He can't fall in love with a Prince.

It's too early, anyway. Anyone would become flustered if Ben kissed their hand, it's who he is.

"No answer is fine," replies Ben, head high as he looks around the room. "I would like to say something as part of the oath?"

Iqra blinks, shrugging, "Of course—"

"Wait!" Phil speaks up, standing, nose wrinkled from the whole show Ben is putting on. "That's against tradition."

Ben keeps his face from showing his real feelings to that because of the many faces around them. So, he turns to Iqra, nodding to the book she holds with his chin.

"Check."

And so she does, flipping through the pages.

"It says that any member of royalty can wish to add to the oath as long as the original is said and complete," Iqra smiles as she closes the book. "You may speak, Prince."

Ben wishes he could stick his tongue out at his father, to say  _ ha, not everything goes your way,  _ but he has more important words to say.

Callum's eyes feel like peace as Ben turns back to him, taking a moment to admire how lucky he's been to have Callum fall like stars into his life.

"As you are devoted to me, I will promise the same," and even some of the Knights around them break character to look at Ben. No one would do that, it's a Knight's job to be someone's else's second chance.

Callum knows this.

"Prince Ben—"

"Going forward, I want this kingdom to thrive, to believe in itself, and that means I have to prove I am willing to stand up for others beside those in my family, beside those born in these walls." Ben lifts his hand, placing it flat against the warm metal on Callum's chest. "So, I swear in oath, Knight Apollo, that I shall protect you as you shall protect me."

Callum is speechless, seconds away from dropping the sword but he grips it tighter, smiles and nods as Ben smiles back. It's small but there.

"There you have it," Iqra opens her arms wide to the crowd around then. "Everyone, please applaud the new, unbreakable companionship of Prince Ben and his loyal Knight, Apollo!"

It's slow to start, but the crowd begin to clap, Bobby and Jay whooping in the corner of the room as Keegan stands with a proud smile, arms crossed.

The praise continues as Ben taps Callum's hand with his forefinger, prompting Callum to blink and turn his way. "Come on," he says, "the village will be waiting for you."

Callum smiles, following after Ben, walking at his left side as he promised Ben he would. The fact he remembered makes Ben sigh, a longing so distant that he fears it'll make him drop at Callum's knees one day and beg that he stops weakening his steel heart.

Henry meets Ben's eyes, bowing as he walks past.

"Congratulations, Sir."

"Thank you, Henry," Ben places a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for helping me."

"Always. I must keep my promise to her." Henry replies, stepping aside to allow both Ben and Callum through the door.

Callum spares a glance to Henry.

_ Her? _

Who does he mean?


End file.
